Funeral of Michelle Davies, May 24th 2003, by Steve "Wombat" West
From MemoryArchive
Who: Steve "Wombat" West What: The Funeral of Michelle Davies When: May 24th, 2003 Where: San Franciso, California
Originally posted in my blog as My Roommate Is Dead. Long Live My Roommate.
I woke up to my alarm clock, 30 seconds before Kyle did. It was 4:30 in the morning, He cursed me for having my clock be faster. We were getting up so early, because we were going to San Francisco to attend the funeral of my roommate Michelle. Anyway, it's one of those clocks that sets itself by the Navy radio signals. There's not much I care to do about making it slower. The cat was excited, naturally. I ate some crackers and drank one of her Slimfast drinks. This was because I had no cereal at the time. It didn't take as long as we expected to get ready. We were out the door by 5:45. The cat got extra food, and the fish were fed. We had never used the airport parking before. Kyle always used a shuttle bus, and I never used the airport. I would pick Michelle up and drop her off whenever she needed to go there.
At the security checkpoint, my beard trimming scissors were confiscated. The woman took my bag from the XRay machine, after one of the watchers had called for a "bag check!" She put on a pair of thin black cotton gloves and placed my bag on a metal table. She informed me that I was not to reach inside and touch anything, but that I could give her verbal cues. I momentarily put my hands behind my back, but then remembered that people who are like this do not like it when they cannot see your hands, so I brought them forward again. Once she said she was looking for scissors, I directed her as best I could to my shaving kit. Even then it took her far too long. Finally, she produced them, I turned to seal my bag and go.
"Wait," she said. "You can check this bag, I can take you to the head of the check-in line. Or you can take these to the Hallmark store and mail them to yourself."
"The government is now the owner of a new pair of scissors," I said. "Put them to good use." She asked again if I was sure I wanted her to confiscate them, since I had other options, but I was in no mood to either waste time or money. The federal government has a huge pile of scissors, nail clippers, and other contraband toiletries. To raise money, it sells them at auctions. I intend to get a new pair from them.
A slimfast has 220 calories. According to the label on one can, it contains roughly 1/3 to 1/4 of the daily requirements of the human body. It tastes like you'd expect. Though I trust that my nondiscriminating pallate helps this along. It's still not very filling.
The flight lasted an hour and a half. As Kyle and I stood in line to board, the ticket taker was cheerful and gregarious with the other passengers. There was a lot of traffic given that it was Memorial Day weekend. He smiled as he took their tickets, and wished them a happy flight. When he got to us, all emotion left him, and he wordlessly took our tickets nodded and gave back the stubs, allowing us to pass. We stood out like sore thumbs, identical dark suits with black ties. We stood alone amidst a sea of the masses, dessed in festive, vacationing clothes.
We got onto a Boeing 737. It was open seating. Once again, we encountered a person who was affected by our dress and demeanor. Our seatmate was a balding fellow in his late 50's. He seemed quite nice, asking us if we were going to work or school, all dressed up as we were. We told him that we very much wished that were the case, but that we were going to a funeral. He didn't say anything else for the rest of the trip. Kyle read. I thought.
Kyle's mother met us at the airport. We drove to his apartment to drop off our bags. While we were there, I looked at the graduation gift that my parents had mailed her. I took it out of the external packing box, but did not unwrap it. We opened up the card that my mom had written and decided that nothing had been said that would cause the Davies' undue emotional stress, so we resealed the envelope and added a second card from myself expressing sympathy.
We were the very first ones to arrive at the church. The service was going to start at 11:30, and we got there 45 minutes early. Given that, we had time to explore the building. Nominally we were making sure we were in the right place, and making sure we found others who were there for the same event. It is a large Greek Orthodox church, with a high school on the second floor, a gymnasium beneath, and lots of administrative offices. We found where the service would be held and went there to wait. By this time, there were a few other people present and seated.
The narthex was a small room. There was a table with a box of sand on it, with a single white candle in a glass holder embedded in the sand. There was a box of thin brown candles next to it, and beyond that, a woven basket with a single dollar in it. From this, the Hofmann's and I infered that candles were one dollar each and that we could light them and set them in the sand. Each of us purchased one and planted it in the sand box. They burned quickly. Breezes from the open door made the flames flicker, but they stayed lit. There were four large floral arrangements in the narthex. Three were of different sorts of flowers, but one was a large heart of bright red flowers. Some of them bore labels. One was from her grandparents. Next to the heart was a large wooden icon with Greek lettering, depicting Jesus standing on tablets which formed a cross. The apostles were standing behind him, and he was extending his arms to Lazarus and another fellow who were rising out of coffins. The doors leading into the chapel were large, and made of glass. The glass had been etched with the image of angels. One on each door. Each angel was about ten feet tall.
The chapel was an octagonal room. It was perhaps 20 feet across by 20 feet deep and the ceiling was perhaps 35 feet above us. There were four large stained glass panels on the side walls; two on each side. On the left were depictions of the Nativity and Baptism of Jesus, and on the right, were depictions of the Crucifixtion and the Annunciation of Gabriel to Mary. Each bore an inscription, worked into the glass, in Greek, using Greek lettering. There was a small wooden crucifix at the front, behind the altar. It had a small amount of decoration, but nothing extravagent. It bore the INRI placard which before, I had thought only was used by Catholics. There was a very large square baptismal font made of either copper or brass in the front. It looked to be quite permanant, having a drain in the center, and probably internal plumbing. It was like a square bucket, perhaps four feet deep, and two feet on a side. There was a piece of furniture whose function I could not identify next to it. It was made entirely of wood, and was carved very ornately. It was a raised platform with a purple cloth in the center, and enclosed by a peaked roof type covering. I cannot emphasize enough the beauty of the carvings. Four angels were emerging from the posts which connected the roof to the platform. There were crenellations around the edges, and intricately carved wooden tassles which hung from the roof. Leaves and ivy had been painstakingly carved twisting around it. If I had to guess as to its function, I would imagine that it might hold infants if they needed to be annointed before baptism. It was far too small for anyone larger than an infant, but they would fit nicely and the interior did appear to be padded. It hardly looked like a reliquary or place to store books. There was a stone lectern with an eagle carved into it. The stone was white and porous, probably so that it would be possible to move, but naturally I didn't test to see how heavy it was. There was the motif of a two headed eagle elsewhere in the buildings, but this eagle had only one head. There was no book on the lectern. Next there were four wooden panels depicting the same scenes as the stained glass above us. These were positioned in the front and center of the chapel, again, two on the left, and two on the right. In the front wall, there was a half-circular arch, and the room extended back a little more. It was in here that the altar and crucifix were. Again, each was simple and generally unadorned, aside from the most basic of liturgical elements. There were two doors in the small alcove, one which led to the outside, and one which led elsewhere in the building. It was from the latter which the three priests emerged. In front of the four wooden panels were two iron candleabras standing about seven feet tall, and each holding about ten electric light bulbs. These were turned on. Finally to the far right, there was a small desk and chair. One of the three priests sat here and sang during the service.
There were no pews, but rows of disconnected chairs. Most all of these were full by the time the ceremony began. There was no organ or piano, but there was what sounded to be recorded singing of hymns in Greek played before the service. The three ministers appeared, two were young, and one was older, but hardly feeble. The oldest one sat at the desk and chair on the far right side. The middle aged one presided over the ceremony, and the youngest one assisted, both vocally and with some of the minor tasks. At about 11:35 or so, the doors opened and eight pallbearers walked in bearing a silvery blue casket with metal trim. The family followed behind. The coffin was brought to the front of the church, and I felt a moment of dread as I feared they would keep it sealed. After everyone was seated, one of the pallbearers, who was a fellow likely from the funeral home, moved the flowers from the seam, turned a knob-lock, and opened the casket with a slight creak. From where I sat, I could see nothing, the coffin was parallel to the main aisle, with her head towards us. Then the ministers began to sing. There was no liturgy, and we did not have hymnals or any sort of printed service guide. All of us sat there watching as the leader took a censer and began to disperse incense smoke throughout the room. We have one at my home church, but it is not used nearly as frequently as this one was. Two shakes were given to each row of seats on each side, many many shakes were made over the coffin, and around the family. All the while, they continued to sing, sometimes in Greek, and sometimes in English. They sang about the ressurection of Christ, and the assurance that all who are baptised in Him are saved. They sang about "his handmaiden, Michelle" and about her mortality. They sang about petitioning for the forgiveness of her sins "both deliberate and unintentional." They repeated these same themes for about a half hour. The leader would sing, and the third one sitting off to the side would provide the backup, and sang in Greek most often. The youngest minister gave responses to the words sung by the leader. All of them sang in Greek at times, and all of them sang in English at times.
The leader then removed the white top layer of his vestments and turned to address us. He read from the scriptures, and delivered a homily. Apparently, this was the church that Michelle was baptized in. He began with the words. "When I was called and asked if I would preside over Michelle's funeral, I said 'No!'. It was the human side of me saying 'How can I be expected to do that? How can parents be expected to bury their children? How can grandparent's be expected to bury their grandchildren?'" He talked some more about Michelle's past before she moved to UCSD, and about her life and times afterwards. He extolled her life, and gave assurances of salvation. "She won her case!" he exclaimed. "She was always looking out for the lost, and the forgotten. She was always looking out for their rights, and now, she is pleading the cases of the lost in the courts of the Lord!" He extolled the rest of her life, and ended by saying "Always remember, 143 feet. She loves you."
Then he announced that it was time for the "final embrace." He gave directions for how we were to line up to see her, and delivered a blessing for those who wanted to leave now. More incense was dispersed. As we had been standing and sitting, I had tried to see what I could of her, all I could see from where I was, was an arm and a black sleeve. Now, however, the coffin was turned sideways, and we could see that there was a framed photo of her on the lid. As we waited our turn, a woman reached out behind me and asked the significance of 143 feet. I told her about how it was the depth at which she was found, and the significance of the pager code where 143 meant "I love you" for the number of letters in each word. She thanked me and sat back. It was about this time that it was our turn.
The Hofmann's, myself, Nick and Effie walked up there. It was very difficult to do, but Mrs. Hofmann, in her wisdom, had given entire packages of tissues to each person in our group, and enough extra that we could pass them out to those who had forgotten them. When you work as a professional musician who plays at many funerals, you think of these things. As I got close enough to finally see her, I gasped in shock and despair. She was entirely the wrong color. The funeral makeup artists had done a good job on her hands, and they looked entirely lifelike, but her face and head had a distinctly green/yellowish tinge to them. We stood over her body and wept openly, each of us. She was wearing black, with the wrap her parents had taken from her closet, and a skirt I had seen her wear countless times. The Davies, when they noticed it was us, stood and hugged us, weeping along with us. At one point, I stood over her, and kissed her. Kyle soon did likewise. There was a line behind us, so we moved along the row of her family, hugging and shaking hands. Inside, alongside her, was a smaller wooden icon with the same image of Jesus, resurrecting Lazarus and the other man.
Eventually we found ourselves outside the church. There were two black limousines for the family, and at the front of the parking lot, her hearse. We stood talking for a while, until it looked like the line was finished, and that most people had come out. Bright flourescent orange funeral stickers were distributed to mark the vehicles. I went back inside. Mrs Hofmann had said that in a number of the Asiatic cultures, it's written into the service that there is to be a second viewing of the body. She stated that this is because they beleive that the first time, the shock is so great, it does not register, and that for anything meanigful to come of a viewing, you have to see them at least twice. I made my way back through the chairs, until I finally stood before her again. Now that there were only a few people left, and we could all gather round her casket together we did so and stayed with her while the final preperations were made. We held her hand, and gently caressed her forehead and cheek. Finally it was time to go. We took enough steps back that we were behind her family, and watched as the younger priest and the leader brought forth the holy oil. They also brought forth a glass container full of what appeared to be ashes. After they had annointed her with the oil, the leader poured out some of the ashes onto her hands. Then the photo of her was taken out (the icon was left inside, however), and the lid closed and locked. We quickly made an exit as the pallbearers returned to take her to the hearse.
It was an uneventful drive to the Greek Orhtodox Memorial Park in Colma. We did get seperated from the convoy several times, but found enough cars now and then with the "Funeral" stickers to get there. We did mistakenly turn into a Catholic cemetery and had to ask a groundskeeper if there were any funerals being held that day. He checked and told us we were in the wrong place. We found the real gravesite after a bit more searching. Her grave is on a hill overlooking an entire small valley. Because Colma is a city of cemeteries, the only view that can really be seen is more tombstones amid rolling grassy hills, but even that is something.
The coffin was on top of three wooden staffs which were placed perpendicularly across the hole. Because we were late due to the mixup, things were just about to get underway. There was a lot of talking, even when the priest began to speak. The wind was also blowing which made it difficult to hear anything he was saying. We were near the back, so the majority of what was said was lost to the wind. People crossed themselves at various times, and I did so in imitation. As a final event of the interment service, the pall bearers each stepped forward, removed their white gloves, and lay them onto the head of the coffin in a small pile.
She was buried behind a large stone with a different name upon it. It was odd in the sense that the text of the tombstone would be at her feet, and she would be behind the stone rather than before it. All the other stones around her had writing on them, and the only blank one was before her. [1] She was buried two plots away from an uncle of her's who had died in 1970. He had been born in 1955, and was only 16 when he died. The day that she was buried, was printed on his tombstone as his birthday. People lost no time commenting on this. Eventually, the interrment service ended, and everyone began to leave. The next event of the day was a luncheon at the church. The Hofmann's and I lingered for a while. A woman detatched herself from the crowd and began to order the workmen. They emerged from a respectable distance and surrounded Michelle's casket. The woman told them "Lower her down, then put the grave boards in place, then you can go to lunch." The workmen produced a pair of long leather straps. One of the beams was kicked out from beneath the coffin, and the workers threaded the straps beneath it so that it was held as by a sling. Then, they hefted the straps so that the other beams could be removed. She was lowered slowly until she finally came to rest at the bottom. The pit seemed to be far more than six feet deep. The workers took the artificial turf off of the worn planks, and lay them over the pit so that it would not present a falling hazard. Then we decided we should go back to the luncheon.
We found ourselves back at the church. We found Nick outside, talking to Kristina on a cell phone. She was the person who originally told us what had happened. After telling her briefly what had happened at the funeral, I asked her to tell me about how she had first heard. She told a tale which I will not recount here. The gist was that Michelle had not filled in an emergency card, and that Kristina, being the leader of the club was contacted as the person to try and get the contact information. After giving the phone back to Nick, we went inside. It was a large basketball gymnasium for the high school above. There were rows of tables set up along the right side with an array of Greek food of all sorts. It was catered. Near the front there were fluted glasses of Metaxa, a powerful Greek cognac. Her parents stood a few moments after we walked in and began to speak. They thanked us all for coming, and thanked us for all the help we'd given them. They said again that the luncheon was to celebrate her life, and that we should all be thankful for what she gave to us all. We raised our glasses of Metaxa and sipped. It is powerful stuff. There were all sorts of Greek foods there. Spanakopita was always something she enjoyed so there was a lot of that. There was plenty of goat cheese and Greek olives. A Greek white wine was at the table. It also had a kick to it, but it was more managable. There was well made carrot cake for dessert. After that, we learned that we were expected to go to the Davies' house for the family and close friends. After eating our fill, we got back into the Hofmann's van and drove out across the Golden Gate Bridge.
The Davies had moved since I had last been to San Francisco. Michelle had been annoyed that they sold the house she grew up in. Their new house is on the waterfront of one of the rivers leading into the bay. As we arrived, there was more food to be had. I could not eat any more due to my being quite full from the luncheon. It seemed ironic that a few hours ago I had groused that a single Slimfast drink does not a meal make. Mrs. Davies gave us copies of a song that had been played at Michelle's wake, and then put the actual CD on so we and the other guests could hear it sung as well. There was no structure here, we all mingled with the others, took pictures, played with Max and Maggie, the family dogs, and tried to be upbeat. After a while, I thought it appropriate that I bring forth the gift my parents had given to her as a graduation present. I gave the package, and both cards to Mrs. Davies, who opened them stoically. She thanked me heartily, said that the statuette would be given a place of honor in their house, and that they would use it to remember her by. I told her that my parents would be attending the latter memorial service, and she once again told me that we were like family, and that I had been as a surrogate brother to Michelle.
All of the flowers that had been around her grave and at the church had been collected and had been taken down to the dock. The picture that had been inside her casket was on a small table surrounded by the flowers. There were several boats there; one was the Davies', another seemed to belong to one of the guests, and a small motorized canoe. All of us except two got into one boat or the other and received a measure of the flowers. We then moved towards the mouth of the bay.
As we went along, petals from the flowers being held at the bow were dropping off and going into the water. As we passed them, I imagined the timeline of her life, and that each petal represented a momentous occasion. We passed a yacht club, and some buoys, and eventually found ourselves at the bay. The boats were too far apart to say anything meaningful to all the guests, so people just started throwing flowers in. As I threw my flowers, silently mused to myself, and held up an aspect of her life that I had known. All of the Monopoly and M.U.L.E. games that we had played, her two boyfriends, the trips to Julian, her fish tank, all the times she had asked me to help out with something mechanical, or electronic, her trips to Magic Mountain, our time at the boxing club together. At this point I had nearly run out of flowers, so I pitched the last bunch in and held up she herself. We floated around for a few minutes watching the flowers be carried out into the bay. A large watercraft came barreling into the river and we yelled at him to slow down so his wake wouldn't disrupt the flora. He figured out what we meant, cut his engine speed, and continued on. After a while we took the boats back to their house, and continued her memorial party. More photos were taken, and eventually it became late. We gave a final round of hugs, and then left.
I stayed the night at the Hofmann's, and then Kyle and I flew back around noontime to San Diego. This is a true and accurate accounting of the events surrounding her burial.
~W
- I have since learned by talking with her parents that her headstone is in the usual place, and that it was merely covered during the interrment. It is not actually at her feet, and she is two plots to the right, and one row up the hill from her uncle.
Additional information for the Memory-Wiki
Michelle Davies died on May 17th, 2003 while SCUBA diving near Farnsworth Bank at Catalina Island. I lived with her between 1999 to that point, and had met her within the first few weeks of coming to UC San Diego for undergraduate work. She graduated from UCSD and then went on to law school at the University of San Diego. Her eventual goal was to be a public defender. She had just finished her last class needed to graduate with her JD degree when she went on what would be her last diving trip. She loved SCUBA diving, and was quite skilled at it. Her cause of death was eventually determined to be a stroke caused by her naturally high blood pressure interacting badly with the increased water pressure. Her dive buddy lost track of her and eventualy her body was found at a depth of 143 feet on the ocean floor. Her family feels that is supernaturally significant for the reasons mentioned above. As near as we can tell, she was killed quickly and probably didn't suffer.
