Chapter 3: Saying Goodbye, Part I

June 1982, Milford, Ohio

On Wednesday morning, I once again made breakfast for everyone. Joyce did the dishes after breakfast, and then we all sat in the living room with cups of coffee. The ladies from the church would bring lunch, and around 3:30pm we’d head to the Noakes Funeral Home for the visitation. I dreaded that, because I wasn’t a big fan of being in the same room as a dead body on display. There was just something that creeped me out about the whole idea. But I would be there to support Kara and her mom, no matter how I felt.

Just after 10:00am I called the travel agent to change my return flight from July 8th to June 25th. I arranged to pick up the revised tickets at O’Hare from SAS. Next, I had to call Karin and Torbjörn and let them know about the change of plans. Torbjörn was easy — I just let him know I’d only be staying a week with him, then I’d be heading to Stockholm. It was only cutting five days, so I didn’t really need to explain.

The second call was much more difficult. I didn’t want to really get into things with Karin until I saw her face to face, but I was cutting an entire week of time from my visit with her. I really wanted to avoid a long-drawn out conversation with her about it, so I told her that I was calling from a friend’s house, which was true, and that I had some serious issues at home that meant that I needed to cut my trip short. I was still going to see her for a full week, and she’d have my undivided attention. She wasn’t happy but said she understood. I told her that I’d see her in about two weeks.

Finally, I called Josh and let him know what had happened. He was in complete shock and asked to speak to Kara. I put her on the phone and Josh switched from Swedish to English to talk to her. They spoke for about five minutes and then Kara said goodbye and they hung up.

“So that was Swedish, huh?” she said.

“Yes. Josh can speak fluently now, too.”

I gave Mrs. Blanchard enough cash to cover the phone calls and sat back down in the living room with Kara sitting between Joyce and me. The ladies brought a large lunch around 11:30am and after we ate, Kara said she wanted to take a nap and asked Joyce to come with her. They went upstairs, and I sat with Mrs. Blanchard in the living room.

“Steve,” she said, moving to sit on the couch next to me, “I just want to tell you how happy I am that Kara found you. I know it’s been difficult at times, but it’s been a very good thing for her. I sometimes wonder how my life would have been different if I’d met someone like you when I was a teenager. There are days when I think it would have been so much better.”

She leaned over and kissed my cheek.

“Thanks for being there for Kara,” she said. “And for loving her and, I hope, living the rest of your lives together.”

I started to speak, but she put her finger on my lips and shook her head, then moved back to the chair she’d been sitting in. I briefly imagined what Nancy Blanchard had looked like as a teenager, and realized that she looked very good for someone who was almost forty years old. I hoped Kara looked that good in twenty-two years! I also wondered if Mrs. Blanchard would eventually remarry, but it was certainly neither the time nor the place to ask that kind of question.

About 2:30pm I went upstairs to wake Kara and Joyce so we could all get ready. The girls were on top of the comforter, fully clothed, but cuddled together. I gently shook Joyce’s shoulder and then she woke Kara. We took turns taking showers, then dressed in our black clothes. The last thing I did was tie my tie, and then we went downstairs to wait for Mrs. Blanchard. When she came down, we went out to Alan’s Oldsmobile because it was more comfortable for four, and I drove to the Noakes Funeral Home.

When we pulled up, Bill Noakes was waiting by the front door and directed us to a parking spot, then came and opened the doors for Kara and her mom to get out. He escorted the four of us inside and directed us to seats in a large room which had around 100 chairs arranged in rows. In the front of the room was a casket covered with flowers, though it wasn’t open. One of the staff offered everyone water or a soft drink and then left us alone to wait for the start of the visitation. The pastor would be there promptly at 4:00pm to pray, and then the casket would be opened.

Guests were slowly filing in and at about 3:55pm, Pastor Kent arrived and came to greet Mrs. Blanchard and Kara. He did not extend his hand to me, but I put out my own and he took it with a look of disdain. I smiled inwardly that I’d made him uncomfortable, and then rebuked myself for thinking that way at this time. It wasn’t a contest, it was an important event for Kara and her mom, and I was going to behave and keep my mind focused on the reason we were there. My dad and Stephanie arrived just after the pastor, as did Pete, Melanie, Bethany and Ed. Many of the adults would come after 5:00pm when they got off work.

At 4:00pm, Bill Noakes opened the coffin lid and Kara immediately burst into tears. Both Joyce and I put our arms around her and held her. Mrs. Blanchard was stoic, but I could tell she was fighting to maintain her composure. The pastor stepped to the front of the room and everyone stood. He prayed for a couple of minutes and then delivered a short homily. I was surprised that at no time was a prayer said for Alan Blanchard, something that was a staple of Roman Catholic funerals. When the pastor finished, Bill Noakes and one of his assistants came to Mrs. Blanchard and Kara and escorted them to the coffin. Joyce and I followed closely behind.

To me, Alan Blanchard didn’t look like he did when he was alive, but more like a wax statue. I’d never seen someone in this state before, so I had no idea what an embalmed body looked like until I saw Kara’s dad. We stood by the side of the coffin for a few minutes, then went back to sit down. As the guests filed by the coffin, they stopped to offer condolences to Kara and her mom, and then paid their respects to Kara’s dad.

Over the course of the next three hours, it seemed that most of Kara’s church, all of her relatives and a lot of her parents’ friends and her dad’s co-workers came to pay their respects. My dad came, but only stayed briefly after offering his condolences. All of Kara’s and my friends came as well, congregating afterwards in a smaller side room. Pastor Kent sat with Mrs. Blanchard most of the time, though occasionally he got up to speak to some of his congregation.

Finally, at 8:00pm, Pastor Kent said a brief prayer, and the coffin was closed. Bill Noakes brought the pastor, plus the four of us, into his office to go over the plans for Thursday. We’d meet at the funeral home at 9:00am and leave our car there. We’d ride to the church in black Lincoln Continentals and Alan would be taken to the church in a hearse. Once the church service was completed, we’d get back into the cars and ride to the cemetery. From there, we’d be taken back to the church where we’d spend an hour at a reception-type event, then finally, we’d be brought back to get our car.

When Bill finished, he and one of his staff walked Kara and her mom out to the car and I drove them and Joyce back to the house. We went inside and everyone changed into casual clothes and sat down to eat a light dinner that Mrs. van der Meer had prepared. She served us, but didn’t eat. When we’d finished eating, Mrs. van der Meer left. Kara was exhausted and went right up to bed while Joyce and I cleaned up the kitchen. I made tea, and we sat with Mrs. Blanchard in the living room to unwind.

“Are you doing OK?” I asked.

“As well as can be expected, I guess,” Nancy Blanchard said. “At some point, I’m sure this is all going to hit me. Right now, I guess I’m just numb.”

“Can I do anything for you?” I asked.

She smiled, “Just what you’re doing — taking care of Kara and being here for both of us.”

“I spoke with Bethany and Stephanie today,” Joyce said, “and one of us is going to see Kara every day until you get back. Susie will be around a lot as well.”

“I really appreciate that, Joyce,” I said.

“I do as well,” Mrs. Blanchard said. “All of Steve’s friends are so caring!”

“They all love Kara, Mrs. Blanchard,” Joyce said. “And they know how much Steve loves her.”

We finished our tea and Mrs. Blanchard went up to bed. Joyce and I went up to Kara’s room. She was asleep, so Joyce and I changed and I spooned behind Kara and then Joyce spooned against me, and I quickly fell asleep.

I awoke early on Thursday, but waited for Kara to wake up. When she did, the three of us got up. I went downstairs to make breakfast, and the girls went to shower. The girls and Mrs. Blanchard all came into the kitchen wearing robes. I put everything on the table and then sat down to eat. When we finished, Joyce and I quickly cleaned up and then we went upstairs to dress.

At 8:45am we headed to the Noakes Funeral Home. I parked and Bill Noakes greeted us as he had the previous day. He and an assistant walked Kara and her mom to a black Lincoln. Joyce sat in the front and I sat in the back, next to Kara, with her mom on her other side. We waited about ten minutes, then followed the hearse out of the parking lot onto Main Street. About ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of Grace Evangelical Church. Six men in suits were waiting by the entrance to act as pall bearers.

Men from the church came to escort Kara and her mom, and Joyce and I followed them to the front pew of the church. We were seated and waited while the coffin was carried in and placed on a bier in the front of the church. Over the next fifteen minutes, the church filled with Alan’s friends, co-workers, and members of the congregation, as well as Kara’s and my friends and my dad and Stephanie. My mom didn’t come with him, but I wasn’t really surprised by that, nor did it bother me.

At 10:00am, the pastor walked up on the platform and stood behind a podium. I was surprised that the church didn’t have an altar, but then again, I’d never been in church other than a Roman Catholic one. The pastor greeted everyone and said a brief prayer and then the choir sang Amazing Grace and How Great Thou Art. The pastor opened his Bible and read Romans 8:18–39 and then 1 Corinthians 50–58.

He launched into his sermon, which started off fine, but then it seemed as if the pastor was staring directly at me when he spoke about the corrupting influence of sin and how death was a direct result of sin. While I knew there was some theological backing for the idea, every sentence made it clearer and clearer that he was blaming me for Alan’s death.

“We are told in the Scriptures that the wages of sin is DEATH, but it is not always our death that is caused by our sins. Sin kills the body and the soul! Sin leads us straight to hell. Unrepentant sinners are dangerous and cannot be tolerated in our midst!”

I clenched the front edge of the pew, livid at his words, but resolving not to lose control. This was not, in my opinion, how one handled a funeral. If the man had problems with me, he should bring them up in private.

“There are indeed unrepentant sinners in this room! There are those who deny the existence of God! Such individuals are an abomination! There are those who claim to know Scripture but pervert it for sinful purposes!”

I could feel my face turning red. I wasn’t going to be able to take much more of his BS ‘preaching’. Then I felt a hand on my arm. It was Nancy Blanchard, reaching across Kara’s lap to squeeze my arm.

“No, Steve. Let it go,” she whispered. “Let it go.”

I took several deep breaths while the pastor continued with his harangue. Although I wasn’t peaceful inside, I did my best to look as peaceful as possible. Kara took my hand and squeezed it, and Joyce put her arm through mine. It was clear that all three women were aware of just how upset I was and were trying to give me the strength to simply sit and take it.

Finally, the pastor finished. Three of Alan’s friends went to the podium and spoke about him in turn. When they finished, Alan’s younger brother gave a brief recap of Alan’s life and then the pastor came back to the podium and said another short prayer. When he finished, the choir sang O God Our Help in Ages Past and closed with Amazing Grace as the coffin was carried out of the church by the pall bearers.

The escorts came to take Kara and her mom to the car, and as before, Joyce and I followed along afterwards. We got into the Lincoln and the pastor and his wife got into a second Lincoln behind ours. When everything was ready, we began the slow procession from the parking lot of the church, following a Milford Police car with its lights flashing. Ten minutes later, we turned into Greenlawn Cemetery and pulled up near a freshly dug grave.

We got out of the car and waited while the pall bearers came up and took the coffin from the hearse and carried it to the gravesite, and positioned it on a kind of harness system over the open grave. Everyone gathered around the coffin and Mrs. Blanchard and Kara sat on chairs, with Joyce and me standing behind them. The pastor called for silence and began speaking.

“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die...”

He then recited the 23rd Psalm and said a final prayer. Kara and her mom were both crying softly.

“Lord Jesus, into thy hands we commend thy servant Alan, who stands now before you in glory!”

After an ‘Amen’ from the people gathered there, one by one people placed a flower on the coffin and paid their respects to Kara and her mother. When the last person had done so, we made our way back to the cars and were driven back to the church. We went to the church hall where food and drink had been set out, and after the pastor prayed, people began eating. I sat close to Kara with my arm around her.