For Kristy: Funeral Begins with F U N

Let me preface by apologizing for all the errors in this post. It’s so long that I don’t feel like editing. Maybe I’ll come back and do that another day. Until then, try to overlook it.

We arrived in Michigan after an uneventful drive (other than a fun little incident in Angola, IN where another customer bought our family Frostys at Wendy’s) from Nashville, around 8:00 and were able to get the boys to bed swiftly. Dad slept with the boys in the motorhome and Kris and I used the king size bed upstairs.

On the way up I had made a few phone calls and secured a babysitter in aunt Marilyn for Aron during the funeral. She offered to keep Owen and Ivan as well but being the cruel and unusual mother that I am I forced them to sit through the service. I overheard Owen questioning the activities we were about to partake in the morning of the funeral and I sarcastically interjected that Funeral begins with F-U-N so this was definitely going to be a good time. Later I heard him telling Ivan that this was going to be a fun funeral. Oops. I explained that I was only joking and that it probably wouldn’t be very fun but we still had to go. He wasn’t too happy about that.

We arrived just before things started at 9:30 and were ushered to our backless wooden bench seats in the center row. The Double M building in Nottawa where the funeral was held, is a pole barn that sits just North of Hwy 86 on Nottawa Rd. It has concrete floors with basketball hoops and other evidence of sports and recreation throughout the somewhat crude but very functional room. There were garage doors (closed of course) and smaller doors, shelving, benches, cabinets and a kitchen area near the main entrance. A stairway, also near the entrance, leads up to a small loft over the kitchen and restroom area and there were ping-pong tables, tables and chairs and even a few big recliners where dad was able to nap during the long viewing days. The building is often used for youth activities and things of that nature. When we drove in there was a small gravel parking area in front of the building and a large area on the south side where buggies and horses were congregating. We had to park along the side of the road and walked a bit through the coveted Michigan grass to the building.

There were Amish men and women seated on the right and left sides of the building. The men seemed to be near the front and the women nearer the back. If I’m remembering that right. The family sat in the middle, as I mentioned, with dad and his siblings and their spouses on the front row in folding chairs and all the grand-kids and great grand-kids filling up about 6 or 8 rows behind. All of Mary and Lonnie’s kids were there, not all the grand-kids but most of them. We sat behind Polly and Martha and in front of Kathryn. Kathryn’s kids were LOUD. Becky and Bobby drove up from Texas all night and were there a little late. Kathy had saved them half of our bench so even though they tried to sit in the back the Amish guy at the door made them move. You don’t argue with the Amish guy at the door.

The service was long, as expected, Dutch and for the most part uninteresting. There was a line of men up front by the coffin, which was closed when we got there, and we were afraid that each of them were going to speak for an hour. As it happened, only the first two spoke that long. The first one spoke entirely in Dutch and I enjoyed his expression, but sadly didn’t understand a bit of what he was so expressive about. The second guy was a bit more melancholy. He seemed to have something to say that he really wanted us to know and I actually enjoyed watching him speak. He did speak in English a few times, quoting an old hymn and one scripture. While looking straight at uncle Jr. He said, “unless a man be born again, he cannot enter the Kingdom of God.” He then said something about listening to what Mummy taught us. As it was the only thing I really understood I contemplated giving a big shout out “Amen!” but just kept it to myself and giggled at the prospect.

At the end of the sermon he said something that made everyone get out of their seats and kneel on the floor at their seats. He prayed a long prayer, which I’m sure was lovely, and then allowed us some relief for our little knees. Kris was barely able to get down, and in fact I don’t think he actually touched his knees to the floor. There was hardly any leg room at all and he didn’t want to get his suit dirty. The floor was pretty gritty.

The third guy up front got up and relieved us by not speaking a sermon, but rather by reading the eulogy. Which was as follows:

Colon, Mich. –

Mattie Troyer, age 95, of Colon, passed away Sunday, Aug. 30, 2009, at her home.

Mattie was born Jan. 18, 1914, in Reno County, Kan., a daughter to the late Mose P. and Susan (Miller) Miller.

On June 18, 1933, she married Reuben J. Troyer in Conway, Kan. He preceded her in death on March 25, 1980.

Mattie had made her home in rural Colon since 1962 coming from Oklahoma. She was a homemaker and enjoyed making quilts. Mattie was a member of the Old Order Amish Church.

She is survived by five daughters, Sue Cole of Colon, Mary (Lonnie) Miller of Rutherford, Tenn., Kate (Marvin) Schlabach of Sturgis, Ann Hostetler of Colon, and Marty (Dave) Chiddister of Colon; three sons, Harry R. Troyer of Burr Oak, Mose R. (Ruth) Troyer of Mendon and Junior (Sue ) Troyer of Colon; adopted children, Truman and Susan Bontrager of Colon; 33 grandchildren and 82 great-grandchildren; one brother, Harvey Miller of Anthony Kan.; one sister, Mary Hershberger of Millersburg, Ind.; four half brothers, Harry, Mose, Reuben and Henry Miller all of Ohio; one half sister, Rachel Girod of New York; two step sisters, Mattie Stutzman and Susie Wengerd; one step-brother Levi Hershberger, all of Ohio, and many nieces and nephews.

She was preceded in death by one son, David Troyer; six grandchildren; son-in-law, Murl Cole; daughter-in-law, Josie Troyer; adopted son-in-law, Wilbur Schmucker; two brothers and three sisters.

Then the other guys got up and started opening the casket for one last viewing by everyone. As the Amish men in the front started filing out of the rows one by one in their long sleeve white shirts, black vests and black pants Ivan began to take notice. He watched as they filed down the right side of us, walk in front to look in the casket and then back up the aisle on the left side of us. He stood on the floor, turned completely around watching them and finally whispered to me…”We’re twapped.” I nearly laughed out loud. I relayed this to Mark and Doreen later at the graveside and he told me that Levi (4) looked at Nate during the middle of the service and said, “why did you bring us here?” Nate and Joi sat two rows in front of us and my boys watched jealously as Levi pulled out about a dozen Star Wars action figures and laid them out carefully on their bench. I had let my boys bring a couple of cars but they soon lost that privilege by crashing them into each other and onto the floor. I did let them chew gum though.

Also during the service, I believe this was still during the first preacher, I heard a loud banging on the South wall of the building. Bang! Bang! Bang! Then silence for a few seconds and bang, bang, bang again. I did hear someone get up but otherwise no one seemed to notice or be bothered by it. I finally realized it was one of the horses tied up near the building. They’re probably used to those sorts of interruptions, but to me it sounded like we were being attacked.

When it was our turn to view the body, I felt a little rushed and hoped that I would have a moment to linger and just take a good long look at her. However, when I got close I realized that it looked so far from what I will remember her as that I didn’t need to linger. We picked up the boys, so they could see and then moved on. Joel had expressed that she looked better than she had alive, but I didn’t feel that way. When I had seen her last in July she did not look herself at all, but there was a sweetness in her face and smile that only life can produce. Lying there in the casket, she just looked drawn and very much the shell that proved her absence. Ivan was pretty silent after that. He began thinking and drawing conclusions about what all of this was about.

Pulling away from the building we saw Jeff talking to someone. He looked nice and I really wanted to talk to him, but never got a chance. I said “hi” to most of the cousins but really felt like I missed out on conversation in a lot of ways. Joel said, “There’s your cousin Jeff…take a good long look…you may never see him again.” he was referring to the fact that though Jeff lives close by, no one ever sees him. He doesn’t look like a recluse but apparently has a knack for staying out of sight. In all, I saw two of Sue’s boys (I’m not sure if it was Harvey or Andy that wasn’t there), all of Mary’s kids, two of Ann’s boys (Jared couldn’t make it), Jeff and Ruby (I was so hoping that Beth would come but she didn’t), Debbie was there (Verne and Davon weren’t there), all of Moe’s kids, and Vicki and Bhodi (however you spell that kid’s name).

Nabbed this shot from the van on the way to the cemetery. Amish kids in school.

As we got in line and drove over to the Amish cemetery on Truckenmiller Rd. (near the Amish store) Ivan began asking his questions. This was why I wanted him there, also because he probably will never have another opportunity to attend an Amish funeral and though they aren’t pleasant, it’s definitely noteworthy. He asked about Reubmommy and why she’s in a box, will she come back to life and what are we going to do with that box. We all talked, answered his questions and enjoyed his innocence. When we got to the grave site they were already lowering her casket into the ground. There was a prayer and then they started shoveling. Ivan’s eyes got very big. He walked around the grave as closely as he could and when he noticed that other people were helping with the burial, he asked, “can little boys help too?”

When Joel grabbed the shovel I encouraged Ivan and Owen to go ahead and help uncle Joel. Joel finished, and handed the shovel back to the Amish guy before he realized that Ivan was coming to help, so Ivan worked steadily with the Amish man and shoveled for a few minutes and Owen followed suit. I do wish I could have taken a picture of that. The burial was over very quickly and the weather being what it was we all took some time to walk around the graveyard and find names we recognized. Mark pointed out Grandma and Grandpa Wickey’s graves and in return I told him that Reubmommy got her velvet lunch cake recipe from Grandma Wickey. A tid-bit he did not know previously. It gives us double-cousins special rights to that cake doesn’t it? I saw a grave for a baby, James Schwartz and believed that may have been mom’s still-born brother, but I wasn’t sure. Dad’s Troyer grandparents were the big crowd pleasers as so many there were related to the bishop Troyer. Apparently he died there in Michigan soon after they moved there and just a little before dad was born.

Dad also pointed out a few graves that were outside the fenced area where the rest of the graves were. We were parking near these headstones and only after he pointed them out did I realize they were even there. He asked if I knew why they weren’t with the other graves and i guessed correctly that they were in the Baun (baughn?…I don’t know how that’s spelled) or out of fellowship some-how. Even their dead bodies are apparently too corrupt to be buried next to the pure folk who must have had a greater “hope” of getting to heaven. What does that say about that religion? I didn’t want to think too heavily on that.

The Amish ladies present were nice enough. One lady approached me and wanted to share that her son and mine were born almost on the same day. She has a little boy born on October 5th. I always get a little jealous when I hear of kids born on October 4th and 5th of 2003. I was in labor on both of those days but didn’t have Owen until October 6. Anyway…the whole graveyard part was pretty nice. I even got a little emotional, which is somewhat enjoyable for me. It reminded me a little of Grandma Katie’s funeral and I think there is such a good healing aspect to being a part of the burial process. Such a finality, and strangely, a contentment that comes with it. I have such strong conviction of both of my grandmothers being present with the Lord. I think part of that is due to the grave service.

On the way back to the Double M building I mentioned to Kris and the boys that the food will be good. However…I was HUGELY disappointed. There was food brought to the viewing apparently that was much better but the organized effort for a meal after the funeral was a blow to my heritage pride. A very mayonnaise thick pasta/egg/potato salad was scooped on the plate first, followed by a half of a bologna sandwich on white bread with the optional slice of Colby/Jack cheese. Then there was a Styrofoam bowl to put chicken flavored noodles in and there was the option of red or orange Jell-O (chock full of fruit of course…I hate fruit infused Jell-O). I chose red and opted out of my cake choice…though it was probably the best thing on the limited menu. I could have had carrot or chocolate sheet cake, both with some form of white icing. I figured there was enough carbs on my plate to last me until I got back to Nashville, so I skipped it. I didn’t complain too loud…how rude would that be. When I sat down though, our cousin David said something about “man, I’m so full from that half bologna sandwich…how do you think you’re going to eat two of them?” I had coerced the server to give me two under the guise of feeding my children. Actually that is why I got two, but my kids barely touched the strange beige food I tried to give them.

The tables and benches were an interesting thing. I noticed while we sat listening to the sermon (I had a lot of mind wandering time) that the homemade benches had a small piece of wood on the outside of the leg. It didn’t seem to be adding any support to the bench in anyway and I was curious. When we came inside to eat I realized that the tables were actually some of the benches we had sat on earlier. Two benches together were placed into a larger leg that was the width of the two benches and had a slot that the bench legs fit into. The small piece of wood I had noticed earlier was a catch to hold the tables at a certain height. Here’s a diagram:

Aren’t those Amish clever?

So…I was able to visit a little, but my family was more than ready to leave and I sort of missed Aron too. We left and had a relaxing afternoon. The next day we went to South Haven. I will post about that too, not as wordy and a lot more pictures…I promise.