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March 23, 2005: The funeral was today.

I got up and got dressed. I had a coffee, and tried to prepare myself for what was to come. I had the pall bearers show up at the house at 10:00, and a whole bunch of people were standing around in our front yard.

Once again, for Diane, it was a beautiful clear day, the sun was shining and it was warm.

I had to deal with a few inane questions by some people, which I just shrugged off. I mean, this is not the time to be concerned with incidentals, so I spent most of my time waiting for the car by tying a few ties (both sons' and my brother's) and drinking my coffee in the sun.

The limousine came at about 10:20 and I was trying to get the family into the car. The three kids and I, Diane's mom, and my parents were in the limo, and rides were arranged for everyone else. It was getting time for the car to leave, and my Mom still wasn't out there, so I went to find her. It turns out she was trying to get everyone out of the house so she could let the dogs out and lock up.

We did get into the car and went to the church. The pall bearers and all were there shortly after, and other people started to show up. I was in a daze again, and kept getting pestered by people (mostly family) wanting to know where they were sitting. I wanted to scream at everyone, "WHO CARES!!!!" as if it really matters where you sit! All I cared about in regards to sitting was that the seven of us and my grandmother (who was quite close to Diane) were together.

I wish my grandfather could have been there as he and Diane had a connection that went beyond the physical, to the point that when one got sick, the other would know without being told, even though my grandfather has been in an extended care home for some time and fades in and out of (what we consider) 'reality'.

The service went well, and one of my best friends Pierre played the piano, and another of my best friends, Kirk, and his dad, were pall bearers. The eulogy was great, I had written most of it, but the person giving it, Agnes, consolidated all my writings and put it all into a beautiful and cohesive piece of art. She read Diane's poem, When the Time Comes, and later said that she didn't know how she was going to do it, but then she said she felt Diane speaking through her and keeping her standing.

For my part, I stumbled down the aisle to our seats, and after the service I stumbled out, following my wife for the last time. I was devastated, I wanted to scream and open her casket, climb in with her and go through the cremation myself. I am terrified of burns, yet when you see someone on a funeral pyre in the movies and their spouse tries to jump into the flames, I now know exactly how they could feel that way. At that moment, nothing else matters except being with them, one way or another.

I followed her casket out of the church, and stayed right behind as they rolled her into the hearse. The Pall Bearers stepped aside, and I stepped forward gazing at the casket. I blocked the door so the funeral director couldn't close it, and reached out my hand to touch the casket. As I did so, I felt my knees go weak, and I almost fell forward into the back of the hearse. I stumbled, and I felt someone pushing me from the front. I know that Diane kept me standing there, and a slight peace came over me. I stepped back, let them close the door, and stood there watching as they drove off and out of view. My love was truly gone from me. I stood as a hollow shell, not knowing what to do next.

There was food, coffee and tea after the service, and that went fairly well too. Throughout, I had all sorts of people coming up and giving their condolences, but I couldn't recognize anyone. I knew who the pall bearers were, and some of the family, but all these people that came up all I was able to do was say 'Thank you' as I couldn't even remember their names. By today, I have had literally hundreds of flowers, cards, emails, phone calls, online messenger, and message board posts. Diane would have been utterly stunned to know that she had touched so many people. She was always saying how she was 'just a person', and she could never understand why people would do things for her. She was such a humble person, and it was a genuine humbleness. When I think of her level of humility I often think of Mother Theresa, as I believe they were the same sort of people with the same level of compassion, humility, and love for everyone and every thing.

I haven't mentioned her ex-husband much, but I will do so now. And not in a positive light. I was stunned, infuriated for myself and the kids, and outright livid at the audacity when, shortly after the service, our oldest son, his biological father, and I were standing right about where I had last touched the casket. He made mention that he wanted the kids to come up to his place tomorrow. It was bad enough that there he was talking of this the day she died and the day after, going to the kids behind my back, and bad enough that he had apparently made similar mention at the viewing, and even worse that his mother had tried to usurp my authority, trying to shift it to her grandson, in regards to the disposition of Diane's remains!

But to stand there, at the woman's funeral, and say this to her son, who was standing there devastated, and then to say he was going to talk to her daughter about the same thing, shows an incredible lack of respect for Diane, for me, and for the kids. Not to mention the insensitivity of his actions, the carelessness he showed, and the epitome of all things inappropriate. I saw him at that moment for what he truly is, a self-centred little man, who had played on Diane's emotions for years to get what he wanted, that would stoop to any level to exact revenge on me for marrying her, not giving a damn about who he would hurt in the process. All these things came at me at once, the years of him not paying a lousy $150 per month child support for two kids ($75 each per month), the moving out of the district in violation of the divorce decree which he sweet-talked Diane into allowing on the condition that he would provide transportation on weekends (which I did almost all of), the 12 years of having Diane or I drive the kids back and forth every weekend for visitation, when the divorce decree said each was only responsible for one way, the having us buy 90+% of the clothes and food, the guilt trips played on the kids so they missed birthday parties, had to quit sports teams, the pot smoking that the kids had apparently known about for years, the leaving us to deal with the crying, and forcing me to say it was ok, though it wasn't (for them I checked my emotions at every turn), even playing my friendship (which had 'coincidentally' developed since Diane was declared 'terminally ill'), which not two days before he said I had done a great job raising the kids and they could just come up when they were ready to, and a myriad of other instances that went through my mind.

I have never before felt an amount of contempt for anyone that I felt at that moment.

This evening I spent in shocked silence mostly, unable to even think. The only thing I could think about was the children. Gone was any thought of myself. All I could think of was that I wanted to ensure the kids would have the life they asked me for, a life where they could finish school with their friends, and have the three of them together. I promised them I would protect them and do what they wanted, and according to Diane's will. (Note: Their dad, and his family, showed absolutely zero regard for either the kid's emotional state, or what was best for them, over the next few months. They moved in September, abandoning their little brother. What kind of person plays such feelings of force and guilt on kids who have just lost their mother?

And the worst part, that is something I and the kids will always remember about the day of Diane's funeral.