40 days

Today was supposed to be Seraphim’s 40 day memorial.  Except that it was forgotten in the flurry of confusion following Metropolitan Philip’s death.

I was supposed to have confession yesterday and then was supposed to be churched last night.  My confessor went out of town this week to visit his daughter’s new baby (and attend the Metropolitan’s funeral) so I couldn’t meet with him.  Then because of that change we returned from our vacation a little late, got caught in a torrential downpour, snow, and fog, and missed last night’s akathist and my churching.

So I stayed up very late (after not sleeping the night before) making kolliva because it takes forever to boil wheat berries, let them cool, and mix together all of the ingredients.  I was embarrassed to realise we didn’t have a pretty glass bowl to put it in, so I had to put it in an ugly metal mixing bowl.  It was the closest thing to suitable.

I went to church this morning, was churched (short prayers because when the baby has died, less prayers are said), and attended Liturgy.  Half-heartedly because I felt only half churched since I didn’t do it the right way.

I guess because of the confusion of everything (a different priest was there than planned since the main priest, who had told us everything we needed to do and when, went out of town for the funeral), the prayers were forgotten and my heart felt broken.

Everything I’ve heard and read the past six years has taught me that the 40 day memorial is just as important if not more so than the funeral.  And then it got forgotten.

Maybe I should’ve said something, but I couldn’t speak at all.  I was too upset that everything we had planned fell through.  Again.

I feel like I failed my son even though I did everything I was supposed to do.

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