Mourned
When I was a child, I very quickly had to learn to accept death as part of life. My parents were both very active in the AIDS foundation, and as a result, many of their friends were dying. When I was six, my father died. We moved to California to be closer to my grandmother,who became much like a second parent to me. When we had trouble at home or my mom couldn't solve our problems, we ran to her. She was the cool kind of grandma. She didn't really cook, but she had all the best toys at her house. Lincoln Logs, even. She would play UNO with us, or teach us to swear. She passed away when I was fourteen.
A few weeks ago, I had a dream about her. We were both on a show, something ridiculous from Style network called "How Do I Look?" The concept of the show is that two people close to someone set out to make them over, with the help of a style consultant. Evidently we were trying to find clothes for a cousin who was getting married. The main thing I remember about the dream is that I kept making these morbid jokes. My grandmother would hold something up and say, "What about this one?"
And I would reply with something like, "THAT looks like FUNERAL clothes!" My grandmother just looked at me, a grave look on her face. I picked up something plastic, like a garbage bag and put it over my face and said, "Look Grandma, morgue wear!" She gave me the same look, for a long time, staring at me, not moving. The only other thing I remember about the dream was her humming. "Each night I ask, the stars up above...Why must I be a teenager in love?" Odd.
I make so many jokes about death. I have learned to use humor to deal. But I have come to a point where I realize that perhaps I am a bit too morbid and irreverant for some situations. That is something I need to work on.
A few weeks ago, I had a dream about her. We were both on a show, something ridiculous from Style network called "How Do I Look?" The concept of the show is that two people close to someone set out to make them over, with the help of a style consultant. Evidently we were trying to find clothes for a cousin who was getting married. The main thing I remember about the dream is that I kept making these morbid jokes. My grandmother would hold something up and say, "What about this one?"
And I would reply with something like, "THAT looks like FUNERAL clothes!" My grandmother just looked at me, a grave look on her face. I picked up something plastic, like a garbage bag and put it over my face and said, "Look Grandma, morgue wear!" She gave me the same look, for a long time, staring at me, not moving. The only other thing I remember about the dream was her humming. "Each night I ask, the stars up above...Why must I be a teenager in love?" Odd.
I make so many jokes about death. I have learned to use humor to deal. But I have come to a point where I realize that perhaps I am a bit too morbid and irreverant for some situations. That is something I need to work on.