Day 47

Day Three of the last day of it all. Closure was what I was searching for, and I think I may have found it. Yesterday was Dad's stone setting. It was a freezing cold day here in Cleveland, lots of snow, but the sun appeared through the clouds during a 4 hour window, which happened to be good for the ceremony. As cold as it was, the sun shining was a sign. It was time to move forward, not forgetting the past of the suffering that my Father had endured and the finality of his passing, but savoring the thousands of incredible memories that we were all lucky enough to share with him.

In the car on the way to the cemetery, it finally hit me. I had been ok for most of the weekend. As I said before, I had figured the weekend would be full of sadness. I had been waiting for it to come and it did. Sometimes I put myself in those moods. I can listen to certain songs or CD's that get me there. Lately I have been overlistening to the George Harrison "all things must pass," as amazing as that CD is, it has a very sad tone to it. We had it on on the way there. As we arrived at the cemetery, all the cars were lined up by my dad's plot. They have shoveled out a path the the grave itself. I didn't want to get out the car. Leah and I sat in the car for a few minutes as everyone gathered. We eventually came out and walked over to the grave. The stone was covered with a piece of plastic held in by four toothpicks. As the rabbi began to speak, my Mom grabbed one hand and Leah grabbed the other. The rush of emotions hit me like a ton of bricks and I began to sob. He asked Matt and I to remove the plastic and unveil the stone. It reads "Robert B. Dery 1942-2004, Always Bobby, Always With Us."

To see my Father's name and the years on a headstone in the ground was beyond eerie. I just couldn't control my emotions. The finality of all of it was now there. There is nothing I could do to bring him back. The rabbi asked if anyone wanted to speak. My Uncle Keith started by talking about the bookends of his relationship with my father, the man who walked his wife down the aisle to marry him. He said the day he was diagnosed, the two of them went to Cold Stone Creamery for Ice Cream. The line was so long, but my father with his great sense of humor said "maybe I should tell everyone in line I have cancer so we can cut to the front." My Uncle Jerry spoke about how he talks to my father every day and how much he misses him. I didn't want to speak, but something came over me that I needed everyone to hear. In so many words through my tears, I said my father died when I was 28 years old and I wouldn't trade those 28 years for anything. Some people's Father's live to be 100 and they don't have a quarter of the relationship and closeness that we had, and for that I am eternally grateful.

After the cemetery, we drove to Oakwood for a brunch. Steve and I shared some pretty deep thoughts in the car ride over that will stay with me forever. That stays with me though. The brunch was very nice and put me in a much better mood. My mom put it best, without the people in that room, we would have never been able to make it through what was the worst year of all of our lives. I did it. I got through it all relatively unscathed. For all of those who read this, I want to thank you for all the love and support over the last year, but the last three days especially.