Mother died three days before her 97th birthday. I described my relationship with her, and her last six days of life in much detail in What I Didn’t Tell You Then.

I knew the people at the funeral home in Detroit quite well. The owner, Herb Kaufman, lived around the corner from us in Huntington Woods. His daughter Ilene was a classmate of mine throughout public school and Temple. She married her high school sweetheart, Dave, who now ran the business. It was he I called as Mother lay dying, to make the final arrangements. He was kind and helpful. Subsequently, I dealt with one of his sons. They kept it all in the family.

Mom died early on the morning on August 14, 2010. Rick and I chose not to see her remains until we reassembled a few days later in Detroit. Both our families stayed in a hotel. Vicki was still on a summer internship in Silicon Valley and could not be called home, but David flew in from grad school in New York City. Rick and Annie drove in from Cincinnati and their sons came in from wherever they were at the time. We drew comfort from being altogether.

Mother had left Detroit to be close to me more than 15 years earlier and had out-lived her few remaining friends. We planned a small grave-side service, with cousins (many on our father’s side of the family, who came to support us). Two of Mom’s nieces and their husbands came in from Toledo. One high school friend of Rick’s came.

Legally, Rick had to identify the body, as we had not seen her after she passed, so we went together to Kaufman’s Funeral Chapel before meeting everyone at the cemetery and were led to a small side chapel where she was laid out in an open coffin, wearing the dress she’d worn years earlier to Rick’s wedding. She thought it was the prettiest dress she’d ever owned and was adamant about being buried in it.

I marveled at how well she looked, so different than the wraith I left behind a few days earlier. Now her hair was done nicely, the dress, indeed beautiful. “Mom, you’d be SO happy with the way you look!” This was her 97th birthday. I thought she looked great, perhaps a weird thing to say about one’s recently deceased mother, but it was true. She had never liked her looks.

Mom at Rick’s wedding, 2/12/83

Dave from Kaufman’s, no longer the youngster/boyfriend I remembered, came in to offer condolences. Next entered a bent-over, old man using a walker. I assumed he was at the wrong chapel, as there was a huge funeral going on in the large chapel next door. I squinted for a moment and realized it was Herbie Kaufman, come to pay his respects. I flew into his arms! Though classmates with Ilene, I was friendlier with his oldest child, Bud. We were in the school plays together and he was best friends with John, who dated and married my close friend Patti. Rick and I were so touched that he came here for us. I had brought a photo from John and Patti’s wedding which included Dave, Ilene, Bud and his date and their younger sister Patty, who was now deceased. Dave loved it, asked if he could take it to their office to make a copy (of course). Rick and Herb settled in for a chat about Reform Jewish congregations. I clucked like a mother hen. Below is the wedding photo with the Kaufman children included. Ilene is behind the groom’s shoulder. Dave, to the right with a great head of dark hair. This is June, 1973. Bud was John’s best man with the white carnation. Yes, I’m on the left in the pink. One of John’s Harvard suite mates has his arm around me. He came out the following year.

It was time to be driven to the cemetery behind the hearse. We said goodbye to Herb and drove to Temple Beth El Cemetery in Livonia, where so many of our relatives are buried. Since Rick was a principal mourner, he did not lead the service. His wife Annie performed that function for us. Our children read Psalms. Rick gave the first eulogy. He spoke about the disappointment of women of Mother’s generation; these bright, competent women, who could have done so much with their lives, but instead did club work. Not that the work wasn’t important, it just wasn’t as fulfilling as it might have been. Our mother was always in the shadow of her older sister (with whom she would be buried). Ann was the president of many organizations. Mother was insecure about herself in so many ways. It ultimately undid her.

I had thought for years about what I might say at this event. Despite all the tensions between us, I wanted to keep my remarks positive. I told the Anna Pavlova story, which was one of her favorites and demonstrated her love of dance and how she taught me to love the arts and creativity. I spoke extemporaneously and kept no notes, so cannot remember exactly all that I said. But I know I ended by saying that you know you had a good party when the three Stein sisters got up and danced the Charleston! I kept my remarks light and positive, filled with gratitude for the gifts of the arts she bequeathed me.

With Rick, right after Mom’s funeral

We said Kaddish, shoveled dirt on the open grave, retrieved our cars and went to my cousin Lois’s for shiva. Lois has always been a source of strength and comfort for me. The oldest of our maternal first cousins, she and I ponder large questions together. She and cousin Harriet Prentis had laid out a feast for all of us. Lois’ children were there. They had all been close and kind to Mother and it was good to see them. I remain in touch with them via Facebook. David is just my age and we are true friends.

Mother’s engagement diamond had always been special for her and me. After her divorce, she reset it in a cocktail setting which I never much liked, but she wore it proudly. The diamond came from her father’s jewelry store and I always loved it; an emerald-cut one carat beauty. As her mind disappeared, I had to take it from her to protect it. I put it in the safe in my house. From time to time, she would ask for it and I reassured her that I had it and was safe.

Two months before her death, our Vineyard house was burglarized. The thief stole various medications and four pieces of my jewelry, including my own engagement ring (our wonderful detectives did find everything except the engagement ring, which the thief sold to buy drugs). I bought a new ring with insurance money weeks before her death and at that time, finally had her stone re-set into a necklace, which I had always planned to do, but not until she was gone. I wore it to her funeral against my black dress. It seemed a fitting tribute.

Our family at the shiva (Vicki was finishing her internship) 8/17/2010

During the shiva, we got calls from out-of-town cousins, wishing us well. We spent some time together, thanked Lois for always being gracious and present, then departed for our various homes. We had laid Mother to rest.

Part of the Jewish tradition is to lay the headstone sometime within the first year after the person passes. It is called an “unveiling” (of the headstone). Rick and I chose to come back to Detroit the following May for Mother’s unveiling. This I did as a day-trip. Rick presided over the ceremony. None of our children were there. The Featured photo shows the new grave marker, just uncovered.

After the unveiling, we took our assembled cousins out to lunch at a nearby restaurant, suggested by a local cousin. I reminded my brother that Mother had left us a nice inheritance and we treated our cousins (even those who weren’t at the cemetery) to lunch. We were delighted to have a chance to visit with everyone. Then, once more, it was time for me to catch a flight back to Boston, while Rick and Annie  drove back to Cincinnati. We did all we could to honor and remember Mother. Now we connected with our living relatives.

With Rick after the unveiling, 5/2011

Betsy Pfau
Retired from software sales long ago, two grown children. Theater major in college. Singer still, arts lover, involved in art museums locally (Greater Boston area). Originally from Detroit area.