“Hop” Lady In Black

A mystery mourner comes to the funeral of a beloved father.

Hop” Lady In Black

My mother and father were married for well over four decades.

It seems they were always a couple.

My mother use to say they stayed together so long because they “just fit well” together.

It was no surprise to anyone then when my father died only eighteen months after her passing.

In those days funerals were much more drawn out.

The viewings lasted three full days, twice a day from 2-4 in the afternoon and then again from 7-9 at night.

My father’s wake was so well attended that the funeral home had to open up two adjacent rooms to handle the overflow of people.

The funeral parlor was adorned with countless floral tributes from friends and family near and far.

During these three days there was a continual seemingly unending flow of people coming to say their last goodbyes.

The room was noisy and lively.

My father would have liked that very much.

We knew my father was loved and respected, but we never expected this type of a turn out.

As I sat there watching everyone come and go I was struck by the observation that almost all of these people were just like my dad.

They were not famous, not rich, but just hard working people who spent their lives raising their families and caring about their friends.

They came dressed properly in suits and dresses.

For them to dress otherwise would have been disrespectful to my father’s memory.

They were no $2,000 suits or couture dresses, but I did not see one pair of blue jeans or a single tee shirt.

My father was truly appreciated by his peers.

They were the friends he cared about the most.

As family we were continually greeted by friends of my father who wanted us to know how much they loved my dad.

They told us story after story.

They regaled us with his exploits and tales of his kindness to them.

Many of these stories we had never heard before.

They spoke with tears in their eyes and laughter in their voices.

It was a true celebration of a life well lived; a life of kindness, compassion, and service to others.

Over and over again we heard “What a good man your father was to everyone. He will be greatly missed.”

High praise.

So many people and so many shared memories.

It was fascinating to listen to it all.

There was one more unexpected surprise to come though that we did not any anticipate and it came in the form of an interesting and unexpected mourner.

It was the final evening of the wake and with only fifteen minutes remaining in the last viewing the funeral home was empty.

The family was sitting quietly talking when we were heard the bell from the front door.

We assumed it was the funeral director getting ready to close up and come tell us what we could expect to happen during the next morning of the burial.

Instead as we sat there a solitary figure of a woman dressed totally in black with a vale and gloves eased into the room.

She proceeded directly to the coffin and knelt.

After several minutes she lifted her vale just high enough to give my father a kiss on his cheek.

She then rose and turned to leave.

Without acknowledging us she left the room and walked out the front door.

All of us were so stunned by her visit that none of us thought to get up to greet her and thank her
for coming to say goodbye to our father.

We looked at each other in amazement.

“Do you know who that was” asked my sister.

All of us nodded our heads no.

My brother suggested we check the guest book to see what her name was and if any of us would recognize it.

We all walked over to the book and looked down.

The last signature was an old work buddy of my father’s.

She had not signed in.

Absentmindedly we walked to the front door, opened it, and looked out into the darkness.

No one was there. There were no cars pulling out of the parking lot and no one was walking down the stairs toward the street.

Who was she?

How did she know my dad?

Why had she waited till the very last minute to come alone to pay her respects?

These are questions we all asked.

We had no answers that night and years later they still remain unanswered.

As I reflect back on that evening and our mystery lady I have to smile to myself.

Even in death my father found a way to surprise us.