Grandpa's Funeral

My grandfather, John Albert Jensen, was a farmer and a member of the Masonic Lodge. He lived with his wife and sons outside of Geneva, New York. He died on September 28th, 1951. I have just turned 4 years old at the time of his death. For years I had related this story to my cousins and siblings as this was the only memory I had of this man who was my grandfather.

I went to the funeral home where my grandfather laid in state and where the family members would come together and reminisce about his life. I was brought before the casket that held my grandfather. The casket was long (at least to me) and was made of a beautiful wood. In later tellings of this story, I associate the length of the box to the height of Abraham Lincoln. (What a strange association!) It was a dark wood and very shinny. I wanted to touch it. It was smooth and cool. Then my mother picked me up and let me look inside. There was a man asleep in the box. I was told that it was my grandfather. I recognized him, but I didn’t understand how I knew him. Since my parents had told me who he was, I accepted it. I didn’t feel sadness or happiness, just a child’s wonder.

Being a small child, I was instructed to remain in my seat where I had been placed. I am sure that this was my mother’s way to keep me quiet and out from under her feet. I was an obedient child and always did what my mother instructed, or at least most of the time.

I sat in the 3rd chair from the end. There was a long line of chairs and there was nothing to do, so I looked around. The chairs were of the same dark wood as the casket. The tops of the chair backs were slightly darker. Now I know that was from people touching the chairs. The backs of the chairs was open with a scroll pattern. The chair backs were comfortable for adults but not for children. The seats were cushioned with a red material. The seats were brocade but I don’t remember the accent color. The walls of the room were also red but they looked like a cloth type with velvet like feel to the touch. It was somber and the room had a feeling of soothing nature, like a church. It was a place where people talked in hush tones.

The wall also had lighting fixture that to my mind did not give off much light. You certain couldn’t play or working on any coloring books. I didn’t have any toys so there no lose in that activity. All the light was going up to the ceiling like mixing bowls but smaller. At the head and foot of the casket were two lamps, one at each end. There also gave off little light since all the light was aimed at the ceiling. There were flowers around the casket. They were the only thing that was light and pretty in the room, except for the wall paper.

Over the years I told this story to my cousins, because they never knew their grandfather and I was the only one to have any memory of him. I must have been between 10 and 13 years when my mother happens to hear me tell this story. After the story was completed, she pulled me aside and asked how I knew of the funeral. I told her because I was there. She then informed me that I never WENT to the funeral parlor. I asked her if the description of the room and of the casket were accurate. She said yes. I asked her then how I knew these things. She answered that I must have overheard it. I asked her if people would talk about the lighting, lamps, and chair descriptions and she answered probably not. I then asked her “then how did I know all this?” My mother just walked away.

As I grew into an adult, I realized that in the days prior to the 1970’s, it was not considered proper to take small children to a funeral, even when the decreased was a family member. Since I was 4 years, it would have been completely accurate and correct for me not to have been there, so I did I know how a funeral home looked like. My first funeral home experience (after my grandfather) was in 1963 when my uncle had died. It was here that I fully realized that my recon- collection of my grandfather’s funeral were indeed correct.

So I question you: How did I reflect the tone and atmosphere of a funeral home at the age of 4 years when I was not there.

Lesson: Children are extraordinary creatures. If they need to experience something in life, they will do so with complete accuracy, even when they are not there.