What to wear to the funeral

The sartorial side of grief

I need a dress to wear to my grandfather’s funeral.

I scroll through hundreds of dresses on Rent the Runway. Nothing is quite right.

I sort for all the available black dresses in my size. I look through my “spring/summer” and “work” collections containing hundreds of clothing items I’ve liked over the years. I pull up dozens of dresses to further inspect, parsing through user reviews. (The women who take time to leave detailed reviews of their clothing rentals are doing a vital public service.) Each dress is too formal, too casual, too wintery, too fashion, too tight, too much chest, too much leg, too New York for a California affair.

The weather is forecasted to be a perfect 75 degrees. I don’t want to be too hot or cold. I’m searching for my Goldilocks dress.

The dress needs to be comfortable yet professional, conservative yet still representative of who I am. I want something black, A-line, appropriate but still beautiful. Something I can stand and sit and hug and cry in all day long. Something I will feel confident in as I stand in front of 100 people to give a eulogy for a 91-year-old man I love.

I usually love to dress myself. I like to start with how I want to feel that day. How do you choose the perfect dress to be sad in?

What to say at the funeral

I’m writing my Grandpa Chuck’s eulogy, looking back on his life, remembering all of its different phases. So much of it happened before I existed. As much as I know about him, as many questions as I asked, there’s an infinite amount I don’t know. Now, I can never know.

He was a dirt-poor boy in Arizona, the youngest of eight siblings. A movie star-handsome teenager working on Navy planes in Hawaii. A young husband and father to four. A fireman. A father in mourning of his son (this phase never ended). A grandpa, then great-grandpa. A retiree. A handyman. A man of faith. A caretaker for his wife of 53 years. A widower. Then a caretaker for the high-school sweetheart he reconnected with before she passed away of cancer.

My grandfather in the Navy around 18 years old.

He was an enduring safe space for me, from my childhood swinging in Grandma’s rose garden in Bellflower, California, to holding his hand and listening to his stories weeks before he died in Las Vegas, Nevada.

What to wear to the funeral

Could I wear a jumpsuit instead? Pants and a blazer? Is it inappropriate to wear white to a viewing? What about a muted floral? What about something sunny and bright to remind myself that this is a celebration of a long, loving life?

I want the theme of my memorial to be something along the lines of Neon Barbie Glitter Rainbow — no black allowed. More Sex and the City, less Six Feet Under.

Most importantly, this dress needs to be something I’ll never wear again. The threads of my clothing are stitched with some of the strongest memories I have. I’ll always remember 36 wonderful years with my Grandpa Chuck, but I don’t want to keep the day of his funeral hanging around in my closet.

From left: Me around 6 years old, my grandpa Chuck, my grandma Betty, and my sister Jessica.

How to say goodbye at the funeral

I already said it.

I flew to Las Vegas to be with my grandfather for the last time four weeks before he died. He was calm, alert, not in pain. He was learning how to let go of this life.

We had a beautiful, present goodbye, something I know so few people get. He held my hand, looked at me with his stormy Arctic eyes, and said to me, “I’m 91. I’ve lived a long life. I had two wonderful women by my side and great kids. This is the end of the line and I’m ready to go.”

I kissed the top of his head, and it reminded me of how a baby smells. The scent of rebirth.

My grandfather and I in Florence, Arizona, 2018.

Where to stand at the funeral

Next to my mother.

What to wear to the funeral

For the viewing: a tiered, more casual black maxi dress, easy and flowing.

For the funeral: a simple yet elegant A-line, below-the-knee, black dress with two buckles at the waist.

Something to hold me.

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More writing about my beloved grandfather:

My grandpa was 77 when he found love again

Bloodlines

The Talisman

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The people of Gaza are heavy on my heart.

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