Aurora Magazine 2011

ATale of aWake Virginia Unverzagt, MAPT Director

This visit to the funeral parlor was going to be different. A friend’s husband had died and I saw an opportunity once again to share a sacred moment with my daughter: honoring someone’s passage from death to life with God. All the way to the funeral home I repeated the directions to my teenage daughter, Joy. “When we get inside, you are to go to the back of the room, sit down, and be quiet. You are not to try to make the deceased man sit up like you did to Grandma Mary. You are not to yell at the man in the coffin that it’s time to get up like you did with Uncle Norbert. You are not to open the closed half-door at the foot of the casket to see if my friend’s husband has shoes on like you did with Aunt Marie.” I was sure I had made myself clear. After I parked the car, Joy and I proceeded toward the entrance. In the time it took me to direct a confused motorist to her parking spot, Joy had disappeared into the building. When I got inside, I frantically looked for her, fearing the worst. I found her sitting in the back of the room just as I had instructed her. Yes! “When I took his glasses off and tried to push his eyes open, they were sealed shut. So I just came back here and sat down.” After I recovered from her admission, I witnessed the man’s smudged eyes and glasses askew, so I informed the funeral director, “The deceased needs some attention.” We quickly and quite unceremoniously left. In the car we had another discussion about funeral home etiquette. “All I was doing is what you told me. You said we were going to awake. I tried to awake Grandma Mary. I tried to awake Uncle Norbert. Today I tried to awake this man.” What profound simplicity lay in her innocent interpretation of my directive! No! My relief was short-lived. “He’s dead forever,” Joy said. “What do you mean?” I countered.

Oh, autism you are a formidable companion.

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