On November 2, 2009, my father, Howard Lewis Shorr, passed away suddenly leaving us all deeply saddened and shocked. My writings here are to help me process and deal with his passing. Thank you for reading!

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Eternally Comfortable - Part 2

After Dad died, my grandparents and stepmom, Holly, discussed where he should be buried. Since Dad was supposed to move to Delray Beach, FL on the day he died, we knew he ultimately would have enjoyed being put to rest there. It was also important to Bube and Pop Pop that he was close so they could visit him often. They found a beautiful Veteran’s cemetery in Boynton Beach, FL and knew that was the perfect place for him. Since he served in Vietnam from 1969-1971 and had an honorable discharge, he qualified to be buried there. The ceremony for FL was set for November 9, 2009, so Jimmy and I flew to FL a day in advance. We met my sisters at the airport, checked into the hotel and went to be with all of our family for dinner.

At my Uncle’s Jay and Janee’s house on Sunday night, we had a great BBQ dinner cooked for us by Janee’s daughters. We sat around the table and told funny stories about Dad. That moment was surely something he would have loved to have been a part of. He loved telling stories from his childhood, especially when the family got together.

During many points throughout the night, I became an observer. My family was altogether. My grandparents, my Uncles, my cousins....altogether under one roof! We always had various family gatherings growing up but as the years went on, rifts were formed and we got together less and less. What I had experienced as family togetherness as a child became just a memory. Though years later, all because of the circumstances, here we were…….altogether again. It is something I never would have believed if you told me it would happen. It was necessary and it felt good, even if the reason it was happening was because Dad was gone.

We knew Monday would be a long day so it wasn’t a late night at Uncle Jay and Janee’s house. Jimmy, my sisters and I went back to the hotel and got a good night’s rest. My sisters and I woke up on Monday morning with dread in our bones. Today, we would bury our father. This was it. It was final. As eager as I was to get the Wednesday Maryland service over with was as apprehensive as I was to get the Monday one over with. We knew it would be hard and emotional to go through an entire service again and it was.

Jimmy, my sisters and I were the first to arrive at the funeral home which didn’t surprise us. If you didn’t know, many of the Shorr’s are notoriously late and Dad’s funeral was no exception, funny enough. They took us back into a cozy waiting room filled with plush leather sofas and boxes of tissues everywhere. The energy in this room wasn’t good no matter how much they tried with the upbeat photography and dimmed lighted. I wondered how many tears had been shed in here. I thought of all of the sad people that collapsed on these nice sofas in pure grief. I thought about all of the hugs and kisses that had been exchanged in there. I wondered how many boxes of tissues they’d gone through, but most of all, I wondered how on earth I ended up here. Then that thought was let out of my mind’s compartment once again and......oh yeah....Dad died.

We were told the casket wouldn’t be open again once it was closed in Maryland. So, you can imagine our surprise when we entered the sanctuary to see Dad’s Vietnam hat sticking up out of the coffin. We hadn’t prepared ourselves to see him again. I’ll never forget the look on Rebecca’s face. I think it was her that was taken aback the most by this. When the funeral director saw our surprise upon walking in the room, he held us back to make sure Dad was ok. He wasn’t embalmed and it had been exactly one week since he died. We weren’t sure how he’d look truthfully. After a quick check, the director told us it was ok to come in. As we got closer, we saw Dad’s hat in more detail. The plaid in his shirt came to view and then his coveralls. Yup, it was him. He was still in there. He was still dead, but surprisingly, he looked even better than he had last week. I looked in the casket and saw that the letter I wrote him was still tucked in his arm. His pocket knife was still in his pocket. He still looked comfortable.


Seeing my Uncle Jay, my Dad’s youngest brother, and my cousins see him for the first time in the casket was hard. Seeing my Bube and Pop-Pop collapse on his casket again was also hard. I stood at the foot of his coffin with my hands touching the flag that draped it. I looked at my entire family gathered around my father. I saw the sadness in each of their eyes. It is a moment that my mind’s picture gallery will never forget.


Before we knew it, the family waiting room was filled with people paying their respects to us. Most of them were friends with my Uncle Jay, Janee and Bube and Pop-Pop, so there were lots of introductions. However, my heart lit up when a friend of mine appeared in the line. Noelle gave me a familiar hug which at that moment was needed more than she’ll ever know. Noelle had relocated to FL a few years ago and lived about an hour north of my grandparents. When she learned my father died and that there would be a FL service, she told me to keep her updated. I didn’t expect to see her there because she has two little ones and a husband with a very crazy work schedule. Though, she made it. It meant so much to me to have the support of a good friend on such a difficult day.

The line of greeters was dwindling and it was time to start the service and move back into the sanctuary. It was different from the one in Baltimore. Behind the podium were French doors which looked out into a courtyard with trees. As we entered, I noticed the overcast skies and how the wind blew the trees around at a steady pace. We sat in the front row and the Rabbi took the podium. He spoke and then invited my sisters and I to read our Eulogy again. After we spoke, members of my family said a few words. My cousin Jordan spoke and my Uncle Jay’s wife, Janee, spoke on my behalf of my Bube. Finally, my dad’s youngest brother (Uncle Jay) and twin brother (Uncle Ed) spoke. After everyone concluded speaking, the Rabbi began again. He said the line, “Howard is with his keeper now” and with that, the skies let up. Rain streaks filled the outside of the French doors at a rapid pace. Raindrops got bigger and bigger and before we knew it, the rains outside became torrential and the service was over.

We were on a strict timeline at the cemetery because of other funerals but when we stepped outside, we knew we’d be late. Since we were having the burial at a Veteran’s cemetery, we had a motorcade from the funeral home to the cemetery. The men couldn’t ride motorcycles and escort us safely in these rains so we were held up almost 30 minutes. As we sat in the car and listened to the rain pound on the roof while we waited, we joked that Dad wasn’t quite ready to go to the cemetery just yet.

Just as quickly as the rains came on, they stopped. It cleared enough for us to begin our drive. Since it was a slow motorcade, it felt like it took forever to get there. We were quiet in the car and definitely anxious. Before long we were pulling into this beautiful green landscaped area at the cemetery. I was impressed with how pretty and neatly kept this place was. There were plants and American flags everywhere. It was clean and welcoming. When we stepped out of the car, I noticed how quiet and peaceful it was too. I thought to myself, Dad will be happy here.

At this cemetery, they don’t do the burial service at the actual plot. Instead, they took us to this small covered pavilion. On the path up to the pavilion my family was saluted by a few members of the National Guard which was an intense moment. We all gathered in the pavilion while I stood up in front with the Rabbi since I asked to read a short prayer. It was then that I saw the side of my Dad’s coffin with two stickers placed on it. One read: Howard L. Shorr, the other read: DOB: 5/2/50, DOD: 11/2/09. A pit feeling filled my stomach. Reading those stickers was just another thing that made this all more real and final.

Once we were all gathered, Taps began to play. I always associated this song with the old computer game of Hangman that I used to play growing up. While it was being played, I couldn’t help but think how much I’d rather be hearing this after losing a game of hangman. I wished so badly I wasn’t hearing it because I lost my father instead.

Since we were late to the cemetery, they were rushing us which I wasn’t thrilled about. I was first told there wasn’t even enough time for me to read my short prayer which upset me. In the end, the rabbi insisted to the cemetery director that I read it. The prayer that I wanted to read was special for a few reasons. First, it is beautiful and appropriate. Second, it was read earlier in the year at a memorial service for Silas Orion, the son of our good friends Chris and Lani. Silas entered the world on 9/25/08 and left 10 hours later which devastated us all. In May, Chris and Lani held a tree planting ceremony at their local park in New Haven, CT. They planted a beautiful maple and sprinkled some of his ashes into the soil. Chris read the Hopi’s Prayer of the Soul’s Graduation which I heard for the first time, then. It was heart wrenching. It was beautiful and perfect. As soon as I found out there would be a burial service for Dad, I asked if I could read something short there. I knew immediately that I had to read that same Hopi prayer. As we stood under the pavilion, the wind picked up and the rain started again, hard. It was pounding up on the tin roof of the pavilion so loudly that you could barely hear anything else. I remember saying in my head, “Dad, make the rain stop! I want to read this prayer for you and I want everyone to hear it!!!” Time was precious since the next service was waiting and I was afraid with the rain not letting up I wouldn’t be able to read. All of the sudden, it slowed. It was still loud and I knew I had to really speak up, but what followed still gives me the chills. I began to read...

HOPI PRAYER of The Soul's Graduation:

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there,
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight
On the ripened grain.
I am the gentle Autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there.
I did not die.
My Spirit is still alive…

At the part where I read “I am a thousand winds that blow”, the wind gusted all around us. At the part where I read “I am the gentle Autumn's rain”, the rain blew in sideways, sprinkling us all. Now, I don’t believe in coincidences. I knew Dad was making his presence known there. I barely got through the poem with my shaky, crying voice but I did it. It was beautiful and I knew Dad would have appreciated it.

The Rabbi said his final prayer and the flag was taken off of Dad’s casket. The national guardsmen began to fold the flag with extreme precision. It was folded perfectly into a triangle and presented to my grandparents. There wasn’t a dry eye while this was happening. They saluted my grandparents and the service was over. We all got a little bit of soil from Israel to sprinkle on Dad’s casket. I kissed my hand, touched the casket, said in my head “Dad, I love you, rest in peace!” and walked away. It was time to go and I didn’t look back. Dad was at his new home and I knew he’d be eternally comfortable there.

1 comment:

  1. wow, thanks for sharing this jennie. this brought me to tears for so many reasons. sending you lots of love. xo

    ReplyDelete