Beauty in the Mountains and Laughter at a Funeral
I am on the roller coaster that I like to call my life. The mountains were exactly what I needed. The majesty of these sleeping giants in the clouds could not be displayed in the photos I captured. The brilliance of the landscape can't be captured. The air was thin, the sun was bright and the air was warm.
My brother and I stayed with the Moravecs. An unexpected twist of events, as we intended to lodge with our cousins in Boulder, but they were MIA. So Luke's parents put us up for three days, taking us hiking and making us wonderful barbecue dinners. Being in a place with photos of Luke everywhere when I was trying to escape him for a week was a little difficult. If I had stayed in Duluth, he wouldn't have been there anyway, since he was in Guatemala, but I needed out of Duluth. Everything in Duluth reminds me of how attached I am to this city, the people in it, and my past. I really wish I didn't fear leaving. It's as if I will erase everything if I leave. I know that isn't true, I am just not ready to face it yet.
On another note, my grandfather died March 5, two days after my brother's 20th birthday, like my great-grandmother's death two days before my birthday. We hadn't seen most of the family in eight years or so. What a strange reunion. We are not like most families who get together annually and constantly know what is going on in one another's lives. We are mostly strangers. I wish I could say that I know my grandparents, but I don't. I know that my grandmother is harsh and prickly. I wish this was different, but it isn't. It was hard for me to be sad for her sitting on a stool by my grandpa's casket, knowing how nasty she could be to him and how cruel she was to my dad and his siblings when they were growing up. But alas, I did feel bad. She got dealt a shit card and did the best she could with it. She didn't have parents growing up, as they died when she was very young. She was seperated from her sisters and passed around her extended family for the rest of her childhood and adolescence. No one wanted her. She never heard the words "I love you". So how should she have known how to be a mother, with no true examples to follow.
My uncle Bryan who was a raging hippy in the 60s, joined the army, failed, smoked a lot of pot from Colombia and painted as a young man was the comic relief of the awkward event. As they were about to wheel my grandfather away to place the lid of the casket on he comes over to my immediate family and whispers, "I think I will follow them to make sure they don't pick your grandpa's pockets...those damn Catholics" I just stared, then burst into tearful laughter. My father looked to Bryan's daughter, my cousin Jenny, and just said, "Jen, don't ever let your father change." She answered, "I couldn't with a chisel and hammer." I just smiled. As distant as we all are, I feel a love for these circus clowns that I can't explain to anyone.
The priest was awful, with his horrible Wisconsin accent and his robotic homily. He likened death to taking an eternal nap with Jesus. My cousin Noah and I tried not to crack. We just made sobbing noises to cover it up. Grandpa would have loved it.
We went out to the burial site in a long procession led by the worst, most ancient bagpiper in history. He must have been 100 years old and sounded like a flock of geese being shot down. Yikes. We shook the salt shaker-o-holy water at the casket. We threw the dirt as per tradition. Then, in the middle of Amazing Grace, my second cousin Kobi, who is 6 and a half blurts out as he looks towards the resting place, "That is a huge hole!" We all just burst out laughing. Yes Kobi, yes it is. God Bless you child. It is exactly what Grandpa would have said.
As much as I wish we were all closer and less alienated, I think Grandpa knew what he was doing. His last gift to us. Bringing us all together in laughter. He would have loved it. His funeral shouldn't have been anything but a circus. It is who we Montgomery's are.
My brother and I stayed with the Moravecs. An unexpected twist of events, as we intended to lodge with our cousins in Boulder, but they were MIA. So Luke's parents put us up for three days, taking us hiking and making us wonderful barbecue dinners. Being in a place with photos of Luke everywhere when I was trying to escape him for a week was a little difficult. If I had stayed in Duluth, he wouldn't have been there anyway, since he was in Guatemala, but I needed out of Duluth. Everything in Duluth reminds me of how attached I am to this city, the people in it, and my past. I really wish I didn't fear leaving. It's as if I will erase everything if I leave. I know that isn't true, I am just not ready to face it yet.
On another note, my grandfather died March 5, two days after my brother's 20th birthday, like my great-grandmother's death two days before my birthday. We hadn't seen most of the family in eight years or so. What a strange reunion. We are not like most families who get together annually and constantly know what is going on in one another's lives. We are mostly strangers. I wish I could say that I know my grandparents, but I don't. I know that my grandmother is harsh and prickly. I wish this was different, but it isn't. It was hard for me to be sad for her sitting on a stool by my grandpa's casket, knowing how nasty she could be to him and how cruel she was to my dad and his siblings when they were growing up. But alas, I did feel bad. She got dealt a shit card and did the best she could with it. She didn't have parents growing up, as they died when she was very young. She was seperated from her sisters and passed around her extended family for the rest of her childhood and adolescence. No one wanted her. She never heard the words "I love you". So how should she have known how to be a mother, with no true examples to follow.
My uncle Bryan who was a raging hippy in the 60s, joined the army, failed, smoked a lot of pot from Colombia and painted as a young man was the comic relief of the awkward event. As they were about to wheel my grandfather away to place the lid of the casket on he comes over to my immediate family and whispers, "I think I will follow them to make sure they don't pick your grandpa's pockets...those damn Catholics" I just stared, then burst into tearful laughter. My father looked to Bryan's daughter, my cousin Jenny, and just said, "Jen, don't ever let your father change." She answered, "I couldn't with a chisel and hammer." I just smiled. As distant as we all are, I feel a love for these circus clowns that I can't explain to anyone.
The priest was awful, with his horrible Wisconsin accent and his robotic homily. He likened death to taking an eternal nap with Jesus. My cousin Noah and I tried not to crack. We just made sobbing noises to cover it up. Grandpa would have loved it.
We went out to the burial site in a long procession led by the worst, most ancient bagpiper in history. He must have been 100 years old and sounded like a flock of geese being shot down. Yikes. We shook the salt shaker-o-holy water at the casket. We threw the dirt as per tradition. Then, in the middle of Amazing Grace, my second cousin Kobi, who is 6 and a half blurts out as he looks towards the resting place, "That is a huge hole!" We all just burst out laughing. Yes Kobi, yes it is. God Bless you child. It is exactly what Grandpa would have said.
As much as I wish we were all closer and less alienated, I think Grandpa knew what he was doing. His last gift to us. Bringing us all together in laughter. He would have loved it. His funeral shouldn't have been anything but a circus. It is who we Montgomery's are.