Chapter 31: Mom’s Last Night With Us

September 28, 2025

Our household is a little uneasy this evening.  Tomorrow will be the one-month anniversary of mom’s death and tonight is the last night that mom’s remains are with us in the house. 

Even though the “Month’s Mind” Mass is a broader Catholic thing, I only know about the tradition from the Goan culture, where it still a very big deal – both in Goa and with the diaspora.  A family friend here in town organized a Month’s Mind Mass in honour of mom the day after she died, so we’ve always known that would be something we would do as a family.  Using that as my planning deadline, I was able to get organized enough to prepare everything with the cemetery as well.

Prior to the church service, we’ll visit the cemetery, where the Deacon from mom’s – I guess, now our – parish will perform a blessing of her niche, and then, we’re going to put mom in there.  Forever.  God, that seems so final.

I’m morbidly amused by my total 180 from being absolutely terrified of anything even remotely related to death to now feeling depressed that mom’s remains will not be in my house in 24 hours.  I mean honestly, I was well into my thirties when I finally stopped holding my breath when passing a cemetery while driving!

I remember the day I picked up mom, the day before her funeral.  It felt weird and awful to think that her entire being was now reduced to this cylindrical container weighing a few pounds with a nice mountainscape on it.  I didn’t want it anywhere near my house.  When we brought it (it? her?) back to the house following the funeral, I didn’t even take the container out of the bag for the first few days.  I didn’t want to acknowledge it was there.

But then…I realized that wasn’t very nice to mom.  So I took her out of the bag and placed the container on top of my desk in our home office.  And then…slowly…the kids and I started talking to her at night.  About all the mundane things that happened in our day, about how we miss her.  And…surprisingly…it’s been a hugely comforting process. 

So now I’m going to ruin that by putting her in a cemetery forever…in a space that will one day hold dad as well.  Which is a thought I am absolutely not in the mood to entertain right now.  But – the purchasing process for this particular thing forced a conversation around practicality and planning for the inevitable.  How awful.

So here we are.  16 hours from now, mom won’t be here anymore.  I hope she likes the spot we picked.  There is a really beautiful bench and shady tree right in front of her structure.  It will be beautiful in the summer. 

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