Putting the Fun in Funeral Part One
(thank you H&OhGee for the entry title)
Tuesday:
I am waiting and waiting (and waaaaaiiiiitttting) for a call from my mother about arrangements for the service so I know if I need to drive up to her house RIGHTFREAKINGNOW or wait until Wednesday. FINALLY I talk to her and she tells me to get my butt on the road already because if I don't I will be stuck picking up the EvilCousinFromHell at the airport on Wednesday. So I make plans with my longsuffering co-workers to cover for me leaving early (thanks again girls!) and come home to pack. Only I have lost my marbles. I throw everything on the bathroom sink into my little green suitcase and dump some clean laundry from the basket into a bag and I run out the door to put gas and oil in the car and take off for my Mom's house. I get there half past midnight. (I hate driving at night in Winter, but happily the roads and weather were clear, in fact, it was beautiful) I get to Mom's and figure out that not only do I NOT have funeral appropriate clothing, I don't have nice shoes either, so the skirt and sweaters my mom had gotten for me that were waiting at her house, I can't actually wear. (Ok, I could wear sneakers with the skirt, but man, tacky!) But I figure A)Granny doesn't care if I am dressed up and B)some of my redneckrelatives will be wearing jeans, dammit. I plan to be comfy and that is all there is to it.
Wednesday:
My mom's car has been in the shop for WEEKS and it is not fixed, we are stuck with step-dad's truck. Have you ever SEEN the back of a Dakota truck? Behind the seat is a hard cushiony thing right on the floor and no backrest to speak of really, and it is NOT GODDAMN COMFORTABLE. Mom puts some pillows in and I am lounging not that comfortably behind my step-dad as he is driving with my feet behind my Mom's seat. This was fine for about the first hour and a half. Then I got a cramp in my hip. I am wallering around trying to get into a position that is not so fucked up and trying NOT to push the seat my step-dad is in because he is driving and it will piss him off. I finally get resituated and go to sleep for a while. It is a three plus hour trip. It was a TOTAL NIGHTMARE. Gah! But what can ya do, eh? (well, I offered to drive us in MY car, but they were having none of that. Damn oil leak anyway.)
We get to the motel and get ourselves checked in. There is not nearly enough coffee in our rooms so Mom and I go to the grocery across the street to load up on snacks and coffee and whathaveyou. We are having a good time. I got me some granola bars and mom and I had to argue about who was paying for what. (she wouldn't let me pay) I told her that I was going to tell on her and Granny would get her back. We were kidding around and laughing a lot. We stopped to look at the book selection (because my mom is as avid a reader as I am and we CANNOT pass up a book rack) and the grocery cart (left alone for a good five minutes) rolls over mom's foot. We broke up laughing again. I told you Granny loved me best! We had just been talking about how Granny always had to have the last word and she told me how Granny got it at the home. Mom and AuntD were there with Granny for a while, saying goodbye and holding her hand and whatnot before the funeral director took her away. Granny wore a thing on her ankle to set off alarms in case she went out the door at the home because she was known for running away, so they braceleted her. So he is wheeling her out and Mom and AuntD are crying and a couple of nurses were crying and then the damn alarm goes off and the bust out laughing because that was Granny getting the last word in. The funeral director was all upset and apologizing for not taking the alarm anklet off and everyone else was telling him it was ok, Granny would have wanted to set the alarm off one more time. It was just the way things should be. So the grocery cart running over mom was damn funny because we just KNEW it was Granny telling Mom what she thought. We laughed the whole way back across the street to the motel. I think my step-dad was ready to commit us both.
So my AuntD and CousinA arrive with BabySeeSee, the cutest thing EVAR, and both are completely appalled that I rode up in the back of the truck. CousinA said "I had that same truck. People don't sit back there, that is where Gus rode, NOT PEOPLE!" (Gus was her dog) "We'll take you back with us!" And I am not too worried, I can hitch a ride with any number of people and didn't worry too much more about it.
Later UncleJD and CousinC arrived and UncleJ and AuntJ. (And very very much later EvilCousinFromHell, but not until almost midnight) I was standing in the doorway of my room talking to various relatives and CousinC (in response to something someone said) comments (totally deadpan) "I thought a gentleman was someone who got out of the shower to pee." I doubled over and laughed so hard I almost fell down. AuntJ did too. Have I mentioned that I LOVE my family? It is always a riot. Of one kind or another.
(I had a very VERY short visit with UncleJ and we talked about Germany, he was stationed there in the Army in the late 60s. Then he asked me what sort of bookstore I was working in. I told him it's a metaphysical bookstore. He looked at me kind of cross-eyed. "A what store?" "Metaphysical, you know, like all the bookstores I have ever worked in except the newsstand." And then launched into describing running the mail order department in order to avoid anymore asinine questions. Dood, don't think you can lead me into a discussion about my work choices or my spiritual choices, we are sooooo not going there. I should have told him about working for the phone sex line, but I figured that causing him a heartattack would be bad form at this point in time.)
We went to dinner. BabySeeSee is 21 months old and talking real well and knows a lot of her colours and has her grandad (my UncleJD) wrapped so completely around her fingers it is just hysterical to watch. She has this little stuffed toy, a mushroom, and it fell on the floor and her uncle (my CousinC) picked it up and handed it to her, then her mom (CousinA) says "What do you say?" and she says (not thank you as you would expect) "Mushroom!" My mom and I busted a gut. For the rest of the evening anytime we needed to say 'thank you', we said "Mushroom!" instead. Pretty soon the waitress was avoiding our table like we might be contagious. *snerk*
And then it was time for the private viewing. Oh Gah. I was so completely traumatized by the viewing at my Dad's funeral in 1985 that I cannot do viewings. (dood, I was 15, whaddya expect) I made it to the doorway and turned around and went back to the lobby. It is a dead body. What I loved about that person isn't there, it is just a shell. I don't need to see that to know they are gone. I understand that others might be comforted by that, but I am not one of them. Happily, my family understands this.
Next was the meeting with the preacher. He wanted to talk to my mom and her brother and sisters about Granny because he didn't know her and he was giving the service. Mom asked me if I was going. Three times. I told her that I thought she might like to have some alone time with her siblings. She gave me a look and my aunts told me to get in the car. I went along, though I thought maybe that wasn't such a good idea. HELLO! PAGAN GIRL HERE! I am trying to avoid my uncle like the plague. My uncle got Jesus when he moved to the bible belt. He used to be fun. A bit of a philanderer, but fun. Now he is self righteous and holier than thou and really fucking annoying. I try to see value in all spiritual paths, try to learn from paths that are different from mine, try to be open and willing to listen and see things from another perspective. I don't think my path is the only path or that it is the right path for anyone but me. But dammit, I do not want my uncle (or anybody) telling me that I am going to burn in hell because I don't toe their line. (you have to believe in the place in order to burn in it, and personally, I think this is hell and it only gets better after this, but what do I know) Anyway, I go along, trepidation in tow.
The preacher was wonderful. He was dressed in old jeans and a white button down and was just like some neighbor guy inviting us in for coffee or something. I was quite obviously wearing my crescent moon pentacle and my miraculous medal and he didn't even blink. I relaxed. He asked Mom and my uncle and aunts to talk about Granny, and they told all kinds of stories and it was really just a wonderful evening. He was gentle with them and seemed to understand that they needed to talk about some things, and needed to realize that there was good and bad and everything in between and it was ok to share all of it. I liked his approach a lot.
At one point he asked about Granny's faith. My mom answered that Granny would say to her "Of course I believe in God, look around." It seemed obvious to my grandmother that there was something out there, since we could see the evidence in the world. And then UncleJ had to launch into his saga of "trying to bring my mom to Jesus" and how he had to call in his friend who "is just a soul saver, that is what he is" and ohmygodsaboveandbelow I wanted to pop him in the mouth. The man asked about Your Mothers Faith, not Your Struggle to Convince her to Join You in Gideondom, Dumbass! I did not pop him in the mouth, for which I am proud. But I am damn sure I saw one of my aunts roll her eyes. And when UncleJ was done with his self righteous monologue, the preacher asked again but in a different way, what role did faith play in your mother's life, would you say. And finally someone else got to talk.
After, I told my mom I was happy I didn't hit UncleJ in front of the nice preacher man because he seemed real nice. Mom says, "Hit your uncle? For what?" I gave her a look. "What NOT for?" "Oh," she says, "For being a pompous ass?" (duh) "Among other things, Mom." And then we went back to the hotel where I sat with my parental units in their smoking room and smoked and we chatted and bitched about UncleJ. Then I joined CousinA and BabySeeSee in our (non-smoking) room where I was shocked to discover it was only 11pm. I was sure it had to be 2am. The day sure felt like it was that late, it was long enough. CousinA and I talked until late in the dark like teenagers on a sleep over. (why yes, many members of my family suffer from NSTFUitis, why do you ask?)
Thursday:
I wake up all alone in the room. CousinA has taken the one working key to the room and has gone to breakfast. This means I can take a very long very hot shower and work out the kinks from the back of the pickup and the hard bed and the tension of the week. I leave the door open to the bath because I have been in closets that are larger and so to avoid the claustrophobia and feeling safe alone in the room, into the shower I go with the bathroom door open. The water is hot and the water pressure is beautiful and I forgot my shampoo so I used bar soap, which sux, let me tell you, but I am really liking the hot water pounding my back. And then AND THEN! The fucking fire alarm goes off. Now, I have had this happen before. I house sat for some people back in Laramie and the same thing would happen, even with the bathroom door shut. The steam makes the fire alarm trigger. But I am thisclose to a panic attack and I am starting to hyperventilate and I know I need to get out of the shower, get dressed and get my ass outside before the lack of oxygen from hyperventilating lands me naked in the fetal position in the tub screaming and crying. Not how one wants to be found by ones family, ever. Really.
So I leap outta the hot shower, drag on some sweats, wrap my hair in the towel and run out the door where I lean against the decorative cement wall and try to breathe like a normal person. My Uncle comes out of his room next door and asks me what I was doing. "I was taking a SHOWER!" *insert hysterics, not the good kind* He goes in, takes the battery out of the fire alarm and tells me it is safe now. I just KNOW he is thinking that I was smoking in my non-smoking room. By now my bare feet on the cold concrete are cramped and I can barely walk. Such an auspicious start to the day.
My mother later says as she is off to go buy shoes(don't ask)with my Aunt, "I will see you later, if you don't water the motel down." Thanks Mom. Really. I would prefer to blame that one on Granny too, but I know that my ability to set fire alarms off with water is a talent all my own. Gah.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Tuesday:
I am waiting and waiting (and waaaaaiiiiitttting) for a call from my mother about arrangements for the service so I know if I need to drive up to her house RIGHTFREAKINGNOW or wait until Wednesday. FINALLY I talk to her and she tells me to get my butt on the road already because if I don't I will be stuck picking up the EvilCousinFromHell at the airport on Wednesday. So I make plans with my longsuffering co-workers to cover for me leaving early (thanks again girls!) and come home to pack. Only I have lost my marbles. I throw everything on the bathroom sink into my little green suitcase and dump some clean laundry from the basket into a bag and I run out the door to put gas and oil in the car and take off for my Mom's house. I get there half past midnight. (I hate driving at night in Winter, but happily the roads and weather were clear, in fact, it was beautiful) I get to Mom's and figure out that not only do I NOT have funeral appropriate clothing, I don't have nice shoes either, so the skirt and sweaters my mom had gotten for me that were waiting at her house, I can't actually wear. (Ok, I could wear sneakers with the skirt, but man, tacky!) But I figure A)Granny doesn't care if I am dressed up and B)some of my redneckrelatives will be wearing jeans, dammit. I plan to be comfy and that is all there is to it.
Wednesday:
My mom's car has been in the shop for WEEKS and it is not fixed, we are stuck with step-dad's truck. Have you ever SEEN the back of a Dakota truck? Behind the seat is a hard cushiony thing right on the floor and no backrest to speak of really, and it is NOT GODDAMN COMFORTABLE. Mom puts some pillows in and I am lounging not that comfortably behind my step-dad as he is driving with my feet behind my Mom's seat. This was fine for about the first hour and a half. Then I got a cramp in my hip. I am wallering around trying to get into a position that is not so fucked up and trying NOT to push the seat my step-dad is in because he is driving and it will piss him off. I finally get resituated and go to sleep for a while. It is a three plus hour trip. It was a TOTAL NIGHTMARE. Gah! But what can ya do, eh? (well, I offered to drive us in MY car, but they were having none of that. Damn oil leak anyway.)
We get to the motel and get ourselves checked in. There is not nearly enough coffee in our rooms so Mom and I go to the grocery across the street to load up on snacks and coffee and whathaveyou. We are having a good time. I got me some granola bars and mom and I had to argue about who was paying for what. (she wouldn't let me pay) I told her that I was going to tell on her and Granny would get her back. We were kidding around and laughing a lot. We stopped to look at the book selection (because my mom is as avid a reader as I am and we CANNOT pass up a book rack) and the grocery cart (left alone for a good five minutes) rolls over mom's foot. We broke up laughing again. I told you Granny loved me best! We had just been talking about how Granny always had to have the last word and she told me how Granny got it at the home. Mom and AuntD were there with Granny for a while, saying goodbye and holding her hand and whatnot before the funeral director took her away. Granny wore a thing on her ankle to set off alarms in case she went out the door at the home because she was known for running away, so they braceleted her. So he is wheeling her out and Mom and AuntD are crying and a couple of nurses were crying and then the damn alarm goes off and the bust out laughing because that was Granny getting the last word in. The funeral director was all upset and apologizing for not taking the alarm anklet off and everyone else was telling him it was ok, Granny would have wanted to set the alarm off one more time. It was just the way things should be. So the grocery cart running over mom was damn funny because we just KNEW it was Granny telling Mom what she thought. We laughed the whole way back across the street to the motel. I think my step-dad was ready to commit us both.
So my AuntD and CousinA arrive with BabySeeSee, the cutest thing EVAR, and both are completely appalled that I rode up in the back of the truck. CousinA said "I had that same truck. People don't sit back there, that is where Gus rode, NOT PEOPLE!" (Gus was her dog) "We'll take you back with us!" And I am not too worried, I can hitch a ride with any number of people and didn't worry too much more about it.
Later UncleJD and CousinC arrived and UncleJ and AuntJ. (And very very much later EvilCousinFromHell, but not until almost midnight) I was standing in the doorway of my room talking to various relatives and CousinC (in response to something someone said) comments (totally deadpan) "I thought a gentleman was someone who got out of the shower to pee." I doubled over and laughed so hard I almost fell down. AuntJ did too. Have I mentioned that I LOVE my family? It is always a riot. Of one kind or another.
(I had a very VERY short visit with UncleJ and we talked about Germany, he was stationed there in the Army in the late 60s. Then he asked me what sort of bookstore I was working in. I told him it's a metaphysical bookstore. He looked at me kind of cross-eyed. "A what store?" "Metaphysical, you know, like all the bookstores I have ever worked in except the newsstand." And then launched into describing running the mail order department in order to avoid anymore asinine questions. Dood, don't think you can lead me into a discussion about my work choices or my spiritual choices, we are sooooo not going there. I should have told him about working for the phone sex line, but I figured that causing him a heartattack would be bad form at this point in time.)
We went to dinner. BabySeeSee is 21 months old and talking real well and knows a lot of her colours and has her grandad (my UncleJD) wrapped so completely around her fingers it is just hysterical to watch. She has this little stuffed toy, a mushroom, and it fell on the floor and her uncle (my CousinC) picked it up and handed it to her, then her mom (CousinA) says "What do you say?" and she says (not thank you as you would expect) "Mushroom!" My mom and I busted a gut. For the rest of the evening anytime we needed to say 'thank you', we said "Mushroom!" instead. Pretty soon the waitress was avoiding our table like we might be contagious. *snerk*
And then it was time for the private viewing. Oh Gah. I was so completely traumatized by the viewing at my Dad's funeral in 1985 that I cannot do viewings. (dood, I was 15, whaddya expect) I made it to the doorway and turned around and went back to the lobby. It is a dead body. What I loved about that person isn't there, it is just a shell. I don't need to see that to know they are gone. I understand that others might be comforted by that, but I am not one of them. Happily, my family understands this.
Next was the meeting with the preacher. He wanted to talk to my mom and her brother and sisters about Granny because he didn't know her and he was giving the service. Mom asked me if I was going. Three times. I told her that I thought she might like to have some alone time with her siblings. She gave me a look and my aunts told me to get in the car. I went along, though I thought maybe that wasn't such a good idea. HELLO! PAGAN GIRL HERE! I am trying to avoid my uncle like the plague. My uncle got Jesus when he moved to the bible belt. He used to be fun. A bit of a philanderer, but fun. Now he is self righteous and holier than thou and really fucking annoying. I try to see value in all spiritual paths, try to learn from paths that are different from mine, try to be open and willing to listen and see things from another perspective. I don't think my path is the only path or that it is the right path for anyone but me. But dammit, I do not want my uncle (or anybody) telling me that I am going to burn in hell because I don't toe their line. (you have to believe in the place in order to burn in it, and personally, I think this is hell and it only gets better after this, but what do I know) Anyway, I go along, trepidation in tow.
The preacher was wonderful. He was dressed in old jeans and a white button down and was just like some neighbor guy inviting us in for coffee or something. I was quite obviously wearing my crescent moon pentacle and my miraculous medal and he didn't even blink. I relaxed. He asked Mom and my uncle and aunts to talk about Granny, and they told all kinds of stories and it was really just a wonderful evening. He was gentle with them and seemed to understand that they needed to talk about some things, and needed to realize that there was good and bad and everything in between and it was ok to share all of it. I liked his approach a lot.
At one point he asked about Granny's faith. My mom answered that Granny would say to her "Of course I believe in God, look around." It seemed obvious to my grandmother that there was something out there, since we could see the evidence in the world. And then UncleJ had to launch into his saga of "trying to bring my mom to Jesus" and how he had to call in his friend who "is just a soul saver, that is what he is" and ohmygodsaboveandbelow I wanted to pop him in the mouth. The man asked about Your Mothers Faith, not Your Struggle to Convince her to Join You in Gideondom, Dumbass! I did not pop him in the mouth, for which I am proud. But I am damn sure I saw one of my aunts roll her eyes. And when UncleJ was done with his self righteous monologue, the preacher asked again but in a different way, what role did faith play in your mother's life, would you say. And finally someone else got to talk.
After, I told my mom I was happy I didn't hit UncleJ in front of the nice preacher man because he seemed real nice. Mom says, "Hit your uncle? For what?" I gave her a look. "What NOT for?" "Oh," she says, "For being a pompous ass?" (duh) "Among other things, Mom." And then we went back to the hotel where I sat with my parental units in their smoking room and smoked and we chatted and bitched about UncleJ. Then I joined CousinA and BabySeeSee in our (non-smoking) room where I was shocked to discover it was only 11pm. I was sure it had to be 2am. The day sure felt like it was that late, it was long enough. CousinA and I talked until late in the dark like teenagers on a sleep over. (why yes, many members of my family suffer from NSTFUitis, why do you ask?)
Thursday:
I wake up all alone in the room. CousinA has taken the one working key to the room and has gone to breakfast. This means I can take a very long very hot shower and work out the kinks from the back of the pickup and the hard bed and the tension of the week. I leave the door open to the bath because I have been in closets that are larger and so to avoid the claustrophobia and feeling safe alone in the room, into the shower I go with the bathroom door open. The water is hot and the water pressure is beautiful and I forgot my shampoo so I used bar soap, which sux, let me tell you, but I am really liking the hot water pounding my back. And then AND THEN! The fucking fire alarm goes off. Now, I have had this happen before. I house sat for some people back in Laramie and the same thing would happen, even with the bathroom door shut. The steam makes the fire alarm trigger. But I am thisclose to a panic attack and I am starting to hyperventilate and I know I need to get out of the shower, get dressed and get my ass outside before the lack of oxygen from hyperventilating lands me naked in the fetal position in the tub screaming and crying. Not how one wants to be found by ones family, ever. Really.
So I leap outta the hot shower, drag on some sweats, wrap my hair in the towel and run out the door where I lean against the decorative cement wall and try to breathe like a normal person. My Uncle comes out of his room next door and asks me what I was doing. "I was taking a SHOWER!" *insert hysterics, not the good kind* He goes in, takes the battery out of the fire alarm and tells me it is safe now. I just KNOW he is thinking that I was smoking in my non-smoking room. By now my bare feet on the cold concrete are cramped and I can barely walk. Such an auspicious start to the day.
My mother later says as she is off to go buy shoes(don't ask)with my Aunt, "I will see you later, if you don't water the motel down." Thanks Mom. Really. I would prefer to blame that one on Granny too, but I know that my ability to set fire alarms off with water is a talent all my own. Gah.
TO BE CONTINUED...