As my daughter and I excitedly set out to Houston for meetings, at the back of our minds was the lingering thought of a delicate pick-up from a funeral home in Katy, Texas. We encountered pounding rain driving into the city; the rain feeling somewhat symbolic- like tears, a heavy release pouring down.
This past October, LOLA helped multiple families all having lost their sons- I never do keep track of patterns when working with clients, but this grave pattern was too loud to ignore. Each family experiencing the loss of a child, a brother, due to terminal illness or tragic accident.
Not a one, prepared for the end of life.
As we met with each family, we learned of their sons and how special each one was in their own unique ways.
One family, in particular, I fell in love with (yes, falling in love with my clients does happen) as her son was tragically killed in Houston- while I never knew the details of the loss, I knew within moments of connecting with her that she was one of the strongest and proudest mothers I would ever meet. Her rawness and transparency around her loss were only magnified by her faith. She will see to it that her son’s memory is recalled by his love for Halloween, his passion for technology, and the love for his grandparents, who helped raise him.
About 10 days after losing her son, I had picked this particular mother up for a meeting. As we engaged in small talk around how she was doing, she quietly asked me if I would be going to Houston any time soon. I answered that I had meetings planned and would be there the following week. She then asked if it was possible for me to bring her son home, as he had been cremated at a funeral home near the city.
Without a hesitant bone in my body, I said I would be honored.
As my daughter and I finished up our LOLA appointments in Houston that week, we knew our most important stop would be made right before getting back on the road to San Antonio. Meeting with the funeral director, my daughter and I sat and paused. Such a heavy few moments receiving the remains of a loved one; taking on the honor and privilege of returning what was left of an accident gone heartbreakingly awry.
We carried his remains to our car, placing him comfortably between jackets. Having made the cautious drive back to San Antonio, I delivered him to his mother on Halloween morning (his favorite holiday). I sat with his mother a few moments, admiring his beautiful, commemorative urn she had ordered for him. She shared memories of him and how much he enjoyed dressing up for the holiday- as a child, oftentimes preparing weeks in advance.
In those few minutes, I witnessed the familiar (yet painfully different) process of his mother tearing up in laughter over happy memories, leading to utter disbelief. Her son was gone.
Standing up to say goodbye, I wrapped my arms around her in the warmest hug I could offer, feeling both deeply saddened and humbled by the act of bringing her son home.
When people ask me what LOLA is and what we do, I say:
“Whatever it takes to offer relief in the saddest times of life. We are advocates for the Real Stuff- like bringing someone home.”
