Sunday Afternoon, March 25th, 2007-Wade's Visitation
On our way to Allen Funeral Home, I feel nauseous. Coming face to face with the greatest mystery, the biggest fear that I have, is something my body is bucking against.
My husband, Jake, and I, with our 8 month old boy, Oliver, and our 4 year old boy, Silas, take a deep breath and walk towards the front of the funeral home where small groups of people in black stand with one another. Many, through red, swollen eyes, smile and talk together.
We open the door, and cool air whips away our perspiration from the humid Indiana day. The line to visit begins immediately. We sign the guest book where hundreds of classmates, friends, teachers, family... and caring strangers have already signed.
Next to the guest book, are stacks of wallet sized photos of Wade for well wishers. On the back of each photo there is lovingly placed a sticker which reads, 'Wade Samuel Steffey June 10, 1987-January 13, 2007 'My dear sweet friend, I'll remember you.'
On a table, there are photos of Wade in various sports competitions and a frame containing Wade's scout badges.
The line moves slowly, and as we come around a corner we see why. Dale, Brooke, Dawn, and Wade's Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle are each visiting with every single person that walks though the line. They are lovingly, protectively, standing next to Wade's casket. Above the casket is a beautiful picture of Wade and his radiant smile.
There are many hugs, and even laughter, as each person tells a special memory of Wade, or of how much they have been impacted by Wade and his family.
As we wait, my mother and father in law, who are two of Dale and Dawn's many best friends, take Silas and Oliver in their arms to show to family and friends. Oliver's coos and exclamations bring smiles to many through tears. Silas is shy, and eats a cookie (or two or three) from the comfort food table, yet peaks out with a smile at people. He asks to see Wade's casket up close. Grandma Candi takes him. It feels natural, and right that they are here. They are part of this life circle.
On window sills, there are photo collages that Wade's sister, Brooke, has lovingly created. My stomach is rebelling again. There are baby photos in which Wade is being held by Dale and Dawn at the beach...the same age as Oliver is now, and in the background is my husband at about 11 years old, digging in the sand. There is a picture of my father in law holding baby Wade up against his cheek, just as he does with Oliver. There is a photo of a 6 year old Wade giving his Mommy a kiss on her cheek. There is a 4 year old Wade peeking through bars at the playground with his playgroup...just like Silas. There is a sweet note from a very young Wade thanking Brooke for legos she had given him as a gift.
Wade. At the front of the room...My eyes are blurry and I'm not sure I will make it up to the front of the line. But Dale and Dawn, through swollen, tired eyes seem strong...so I must, in fact, keep moving forward.
Before I know it, Dale is embracing me and Jake, as are Brooke and Dawn and Wade's Grandma and Grandpa. They are gracious and warm and seem genuinely glad we have come. Jake tells them how much he liked playing legos with Wade. Dawn recalls that whenever Wade and Dale and Dawn would come over to the Bailey's, Wade would always immediately ask if they could all play Legos.
I am just an acquaintance of Wade's and though I stumble with my words, I manage to tell Dale and Dawn and their family how much of an impact Wade's story, and their strength has made on me...how each day I try to live more mindfully…taking each day as a gift. I also thank them for reminding me what a crucial, not just superficial, link that community makes in each of our lives...through emails and Facebook and gatherings... birthdays and weddings and graduations and births and holidays...and, though I don't say it…death.
As we continue, Jake reaches over and touches Wade's casket. I do the same. I say in my mind's eye, 'Wade, if you can somehow hear me...know how much so many people care for you and your family'...I physically, mentally push that flow of words and feelings through my fingertips...leaving a message for him.
We collect Oliver and Silas, kiss and hug them and hold them close, say goodbye to friends, smile at many groups of young people Wade's age who look a bit scared, old for their years, and very tired.
We walk outside into the humid Indiana afternoon. On the way home, Silas said he told Wade a 'dead goodbye'. We asked what he meant, and Silas said that he said goodbye to Wade, but that it was OK that Wade couldn't wave back, that he knew that Wade had just felt goodbye.
Monday, March 26th, 2007- Wade's Memorial Service
My stomach is even more rebellious than yesterday as we arrive at the church for Wade's memorial service. There are three news vans there with satellites and many photographers. Saying it like that seems like this media presence would be inappropriate, but it doesn't feel that way. So many of us have been waking up each morning searching for bits of news about Wade, that it only makes sense that the media is there to record this for people who cannot come today. It feels natural and surreal at the same time.
Police are directing cars to go to the opposite entrance, to align cars for the procession to the cemetery after the memorial service. Small purple funeral flags stick on top of many, many cars. We park in an adjacent parking lot and walk by a playground full of preschoolers. Some are watching the happenings unfold. Others laugh and giggle on the slides.
We walk into the building where many of us had just so recently gathered for a vigil for Wade's return...and there he is, at the end of the aisle.
I give Silas, our 4 year old, some pipe cleaners to play with to help focus his attention, if need be, during the ceremony. He joins my husband, Jake, and Jake's brother, Matt, towards the front of the large room where hundreds have gathered.
Oliver, our 8 month old, chews on a toy and listens purposefully to a harpist beautifully playing many songs…among them, Let It Be. I cry, really cry for the first time.
Rabbi Mira Wasserman gives the memorial service, but it is more like she is telling a story or like a wise, true friend giving sound advice and guidance on what should happen, on what is happening. I am moved by her words more than any other person of religion that I have heard in a very long time.
Psalm 23 and Ecclesiastes 3 are spoken by those who know the words...though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...there is a time for...and a time for...the tears that flow are for Wade and Dale and Dawn and Silas and Oliver and each and every one of us in the room and that have embraced Wade in their hearts.
Oliver shouts out. I scoop him up and go into the lobby where they have audio and video cabled in.
Wade's sister, Brooke, reads a poem, as does Ben Schrodt, and Jonas Schrodt sings and plays a song.
The rabbi recounts how Brooke thinks that Wade would appreciate this new way of being...to find out about the greatest mystery in life and learn all there is to know...that no human alive knows for sure.
This takes my breath away.
The words flow...Wade's curiosity, his loyalty, his penchant for making and keeping friends with so many different kinds of people.
There is a sense, says the rabbi, that Wade was taken from us 70 years too early, and yet that we are here mourning him two months too late.
I am in the lobby, crying and holding and kissing Oliver and watch as doors open to prepare for Wade's journey to the cemetery.
Wade's casket is wheeled out, surrounded by family and friends. They take Wade out to the waiting car. Before everyone files out, many people stand in the lobby for awhile, looking stunned, everyone with red eyes and many weeping freely...and then people hold one another, as Dale and Dawn have asked us to remember Wade...as we hold one another close, as we speak to one another in love...as we take each day as a gift.
Soon everyone files out.
March 26th, 2007-Wade's Burial
The procession leads us to Clear Creek Cemetery. Dale and Dawn chose it this week. It is peaceful, beautiful, and where their family would sometimes ride bikes together. They have bought three plots.
We pull into a grassy area. A man with a sweaty brow and dirt on his knees is directing people where to park.
Jake and I and our two boys approach a blue canopy. As we walk, we pass graves with mounded dirt on top...with grass not yet even grown. On the ground, we pass a faded, wayward silken rose.
Under the blue canopy, men are gently yet efficiently moving Wade's casket into a vault. As they close the vault, Dawn's legs buckle a bit and Dale and their family hold her with love.
The rabbi guides family to chairs under the canopy. She speaks of a tree that has fallen in the forest and how it becomes home to so many creatures and how it in fact becomes a spot where grass grows again...so we become one with the dirt from which we come.
The man with the dusty knees begins unwinding a crank in a deliberate circular motion and slowly, Wade's casket goes down. I fleetingly think how Wade would appreciate the physics of this fluid movement. Then I see soil.
Soil. As Wade's casket goes down there is soil along the sides of the hole they have neatly and carefully dug. Of course I knew that there would be soil there, but soil. That's where we really go...from where we come. I am moved by the soil beyond words.
My husband is weeping. The most I have ever seen him weep in the 14 years I have known him. He holds onto Oliver and Silas tight. My husband is not alone. Most people here are crying.
A shovel is given to Dale and Dawn and Brooke and they each shovel rich, moist, fertile dirt down into Wade's casket.
Rabbi Wasserman calmly and warmly invites family and friends to do the same. Many, many do: Friends, children, a friend in a wheel chair, family. Jake and I, holding Silas and Oliver scoop soil down.
The Rabbi closes the burial ceremony and Dale, Dawn, and Brooke stand. Dale says, 'Let it be. Let it be.' And they walk away, holding each other up, with Wade safe in their hearts. Let it be.
Many remain, perhaps not ready to leave. Jake takes Silas up to where Wade's casket is and talks quietly with Silas. I see Jake miming the movement of the crank that lowered Wade's casket down and Silas nods. Jake...the teacher...the biggest lesson of all to share.
On our way to our car, Silas reaches down and picks up the faded, wayward silken rose and asks if he can keep it.
We go home to get ready for the Art Silent Auction to benefit the Steffey's. There will be art, food, music, and community: family, friends, and those who have been enveloped by this community which has been created/strengthened/enlarged by Wade and Dale and Dawn and their family.