A Final Place to Rest for Eternity

April 28th, 2012

I always knew Mimie wanted to be buried in the same cemetery where our twin daughters were buried. On many occasions, when we visited our girls, one of us would bring it up. We both wanted to be buried near them when we did meet our maker. I never imagined that one of us would be buried there so soon.

I can't begin to explain to you how to plan a funeral. I am not an expert at it.

When the twins died, I had no idea what happened concerning how their funeral arrangements were done. Through all the heavy emotions that week when the girls were lost, my friend John coordinated the funeral for us. Through his hard work, he got the word out in the community, where I swore to "serve and protect" the neighborhood and came through with financial and emotional support.

In law enforcement, you try your best to do what's right.

It may not be the most popular decision you have to make sometimes but damn it, you do what you feel is in the best interest of everyone involved at the moment, and as long as you are sincere in those interests, then at the end of the day, you can go home knowing you kept your honor and integrity.

When people within the community found out about our loss of the twins, the outpouring of support was overwhelming. Mimie and I paid no money out of pocket for their burial. It demonstrated to me that I was doing good as a cop. But now, as a man, a husband, I am forced to bury my wife.

When I think of burying Mimie, the mother of all my children, at the same cemetery as the twins at the age of 39, it seems so unreal to me.

It makes me so angry. I wonder what did I do to deserve this, to deserve such pain over the last six years. Why is my wife gone? Her pain ended, but my pain will endure long after I bury her. Hopefully, I can honor her wishes and bury her close to the girls.

Our twins Sophia and Gabriella are buried in "Babyland."

I wanted to respect Mimie's wishes and place her as close to the girls as possible. The funeral director showed me several plots on a map in areas she would later take me to on a golf cart.

I think to myself, "Driving me around on a golf cart like Bob fucking Hope." I shake my head out of disgust as I view the map.

I need to get an idea of what I'm looking at in relation to the map.

Their map is sketchy at best. I've seen better children's menu placemats than this. It's just your standard sheet of paper. It has boxes strewn about it. The vacant boxes are highlighted in yellow to indicate they were vacant. I'll be riding shotgun in the golf cart, so I'll have a visual idea of where her soul will rest for eternity.

After looking at the map, I decided on two areas.

The first one is an enclosed mausoleum. It wasn't this vast enclosed crypt that I thought about when I heard the word mausoleum, such as a vault that stores the deceased. This mausoleum is in a large outdoor building, and it is about 2 stories tall. The caskets fit into tiny slots like honeycombs in a Langstroth hive with top open moveable frames stacked 6 high and about 10 across. The facade is all polished granite, cut in squares to house loved ones crossing over to the other side. Once the granite square is removed, the casket is placed inside, and then the maintenance crew will replace the cover and seal it forever, entombing the body of the dearly departed.

I liked the mausoleum right away. It seemed a clean way to be buried. Mimie's burial site would be on the mausoleum's highest level and the building's corner, like a condo end unit. The only drawback is that I would have to look at her to see her bronze marker. Still, the location was perfect because it looked over "Babyland" as if standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, admiring nature's beauty as you look down into the canyon.

I told the Director of the funeral home that my only problem was "how high her final resting place was."

She said, "People tell me that all the time, Chris, and do you know what I say?"

"No, not really," I said, holding my breath as I gazed towards the granite wall and the sky.

"I simply tell them it's closer to heaven."

A small smile crept onto my face as I continued to gaze upwards. I nodded and slowly diverted my stare toward her, "Is that what you say?" 

"Yes," she said as she looked at me through her dark sunglasses.

I liked the way it sounded.

I gazed back up to the sky in deep thought. I knew that was going to be Mimie's spot. It was perfect. She was high off the ground, and she was overlooking her babies. However, I decided to look for second place. The traditional burying place was 6 feet under but closer to "Babyland."

We arrived in the general area of spot number two.

As we approached the little car, I dragged my right foot on the ground and listened to the tip of my shoe "thud" across the pavement. The funeral director was talking to me, but I zoned out. I just wanted to listen to the "thud" as my foot skipped over the top of the asphalt. It was the perfect metaphor for how I was feeling.  

When the golf cart stopped, the Director and I both got out and walked around the sea of headstones and open fields, looking for the plot of land where Mimie could be buried.

The Director had the map in her hand, and we wandered aimlessly as if we were on a scavenger hunt.

Sensing we were close to it, she pointed and said," It's right around this general area," taking her left hand and making a wide swirling motion.

I wander around the broad area she alluded to in her swirling motion, ensuring I do not stand on the rectangular burial markers of other buried people.

The markers were granite, bronze, and relatively large, 4' by 3'. As I looked around, I couldn't help but notice some of the deceased's dates. Each marker's letter in their name and the number of their year of birth and death is embossed, giving it a slight raise from the flat service. Like braille, you could run your fingers across the top and read who lies beneath your fingertips.

The bronze markers were old, with thick layers of patina glazed over them, giving them a green look instead of a shiny copper penny appeal. I was not impressed in the least. That particular burial area looked old. The grass had a lot of weeds. The ground was uneven, causing some of the markers to tilt. Ant piles were formed around the edges of some burial markers. I didn't get a good vibe from it.

I didn't like it as I stood in the "general area" of where her final resting place would be. The proximity was closer to the girls than the mausoleum, but it didn't feel right. From where I stood, I could see the high-standing buildings and catacombs. I envisioned standing by my girl's grave and looking up at Mimie as she watched over us. I knew more than ever that I was taking the condo with the view.

I just wanted to let her family know so they could feel like a part of her final journey. Her family was 2,200 miles away in her home state of Colorado. They couldn't be here to assist in choosing the location, but I sent some pictures to Mimie's sister from my camera phone. As far as they were concerned, though, Colorado should be the final resting place. I understood their wishes, but no one knew our inner workings better than I did.

I knew the turmoil and pain of losing those girls tormented Mimie. I was determined to do my best to make her final resting place with her daughters. Knowing she'd rest easier being nearby also brought me a little inner peace. I had to make it happen regardless of money.

My emotions were running high just after her death, and I had a lot of pressure on me to figure out her burial.

Her family kept asking me when they should fly out. I hadn't even decided on a funeral home for services. Whenever something was presented to me about her, I said yes.

"Have you found a funeral home?"

"Yes". Lie.

"Do you know when she will be released?"

"Yes." Lie.

"Have you settled on a date for her service?"

"Yes." Lie.

I wasn't in the right frame of mind. I just thought about my kids without having their mother. I was hoping this would all go away.

When I think of Mimie, I get a rush of emotion that overwhelms my physical body. I become lightheaded and hyperventilate. The anxiety takes my breath away. But the fact of life is she is gone. I stand alone with our two children, trying to figure out where to begin. Where is the starting line? Is it as simple as placing one foot in front of the other? I struggle more mentally when I think about having to explain to my kids who their mother is and convey her love to them through me.

Burying their mother close by the girls was imperative to me and my boys, which no one understood. I struggled and fought with other family members because they just didn't understand that.

I was told to "think about the children and care for the living."

I understood that statement, but what kind of man would I be to ignore her wishes? I needed to take care of her to demonstrate to my boys that men care for their loved ones in life and death. In the end, I chose the mausoleum and got what I wanted. I got Mimie a spot closer to heaven with a view of her girls.

I showed my boys that their mother mattered and that taking care of your own mattered more.

1,744 words

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Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

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