TO That's Later Than Expected
I could write a great literary novel on my day on 22 December 2004. As some of you may know, it was my Great Aunt Margery’s funeral. (Funerals are always good topics for great literary novels.) She was my father’s mother’s sister, and in recent years he had reconnected with her. He and his three sisters would go and join her, as well as her three children, once a month for lunch and [lengthy] conversation. I say lengthy because my aunts are the most notorious gossips in the planet. Every story has eight backstories to it, and not simple ones either. They are in-depth histories into the lives of the people they might be referencing, and have nothing to do with the actual story. Aunt Wendy is the worst.
But I digress [guess which side of the family I take after]. The novel could be entirely about the main character at a funeral, listening to his/her relatives tell all these seemingly unimportant stories but learning a great message at the end. Something like…”Everyone dies someday.” Or, “Live life to the fullest.” Or, “Family is important.” I don’t know. I’d have to work on it. Am I crazy, or was this a movie already?
[shrugs] Anyway, the funeral was short, and much to my father’s dismay, they did not allow a time for people to offer comments. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that when the time comes for his funeral, there damn well better be time for people to offer words. As if we would consider otherwise! It wouldn’t be fitting with my father being who he is for us not to.
Aside from this, what struck me were a few things. The casket was copper and extremely beautiful. I didn’t think much of this except, “Oh, how pretty, I love copper!” Then I noticed the flowers from the family---hers not ours---they were pink and orangey-yellow gerbera daisies and roses with bits of other purple flowers. It bore a striking resemblance to what [for like three years up until a month ago] I had thought I’d like as a wedding bouquet [if that should ever happen, at this rate, it’s not looking good.] This struck me as odd, but again, didn’t notice much. The minister begins his eulogy and he mentions several things about Aunt Margery that made me do a double take: slushies were her beverage of choice, she taught Sunday School for many years, and she was the “cool aunt.”
You could have knocked me over with a feather. But what made me sad, and had I gotten around to posting this on the day in which it all happened, I would have said more on this, was that she lived life. She was a spitfire. And, what’s more, is that I don’t. It saddened me beyond reason. With the close of this year, I hope that I will try harder to do so in 2005. Although, every time I make a vow to change my life around it works well for like a day, and then it goes kaput. I need someone in my life to haul my ass out of bed at the butt crack of dawn and make me work at stuff. As Bill Cosby said, “I’m no good on my own…”
Apart from this, there were several odd happenings that day, also. WARNING, BACKSTORY AHEAD: My sister Holly was in a terrible car accident in 1986 that resulted in the death of my other sister, Hope’s, best friend, Beth. Holly had been driving over railroad tracks that didn’t have a crossing thinger and was hit by the oncoming train she didn’t see until it was too late. Beth was the only one of the four passengers that died. Holly barely made it, and was told she wouldn’t be able to have children, 18+ years and three children later, Holly is, blessedly, still with us.
Ever since then, Beth’s parents resented our family and have not even spoken with even my sister Hope, who had nothing really to do with the incident, and had suffered greatly by the loss. Beth was, after all, her very best friend in the whole world. I can even remember Beth, myself. And all my memories are happy ones. Beth was indirectly related to us through marriage. So, at the funeral, were Beth’s parents.
As we walked in, I was first struck by the parlor to the right [more on that later], and when I came to my senses to ask Hope about it, she was just staring blankly at the sign-in book. Four lines above where we were to write were the names of Beth’s parents. She didn’t know if she could handle it. But she seemed to make it through OK.
After the service, and coming out of the funeral home, still weirded out by that damn parlor, I was confused when a tiny little woman comes up to me and says, “It’s OK dear, you may hug me.” I thought she was just some distraught relative who needed a hug when it dawned on me: it was Beth’s mom. I apologized and said, “Oh, no, you’re mistaken, I’m not Hope, this is; I’m Rachel, the baby.” And I point. She was confused and said, “Oh my goodness! Little Rachel! My God, when did you become a grown-up!” I laughed and I said that I didn’t feel like a grown-up. She then went over and spoke with Hope and hugged her for the first time since 1986. Hope was immediately overcome with tears [surprise!] and Beth’s mom told her that she had thought I was Holly. Which I kinda figured the more I thought about it. But it was good to know that she was able to hug Holly, even though I wasn’t really her. And Hope couldn’t be happier or more amazed.
At the cemetery later (where Beth is also buried) I walked over to her gravestone, placed my hand on it, and gave a silent prayer of thanks to her for making Hope’s Christmas, nay, year.
While at the cemetery, I played Bard as I had a captive audience to my prattlings of our family’s history. I showed some of them where my great-grandfather, and first James to be born in America, David, was buried. [He is definitely one of my ancestral favorites.] I also enjoyed tormenting my cousin by telling her [repeatedly] that the whole reason the James family came over from Wales was because they were recruited by Mormons. This was some new information I found out. I also explained about the Mormon recruiting in Wales and how we are more than likely related [VERY distantly] to Jesse James. The funeral director seemed especially interested. Later that day at lunch, my Aunt Erin told me that my second cousin who lives in Florida, had finally resigned to giving us the James family bible. Aunt Erin was pleased to hear it since, afterall my father is the only son of an only son of an only son… I’m pleased because I’ve been itching to get my hands on this book for years!
So, yeah. Most definitely in a past life I was a Bard...someone who sat at the campfire with various musical instruments, singing ballads about heroes gone by and their great feats, complete with genealogical connections to her contemporaries.
And in the realm of weird past happenings, the front parlor of the funeral home. I have seen it before. It weirded me out because I saw it in a dream. And just to clarify, I asked around, and I had never sat foot in that funeral home in my life! But I remember seeing it in my dream, plain as day. Not only was it shaped and located similar to the dream, but also it had the same pinky peach carpet, cream-colored walls, pink and cream furniture, green draperies, glass encased manuscripts, and [and this is how I know this was the place of my dream] an ugly faux Egyptian sarcophagus. I know I have seen that before, and I know where I saw it before was that dream I had a month or so ago. And I remember thinking in the dream that the Egyptian sarcophagus was ugly. But, apparently, I had never seen this place before in my life.
Something else weird, some guy there thought I was my father’s wife. I think he was about ready to slap dad on the back when he said this. Um, yeah. Ewh.
As far as things go, actual Christmas wasn’t bad. There were no problems with the brother in-laws, indeed, Mike and I were joking around, and Gary was in a good mood! Makes me worry about what is in store for the next year…
I did well enough in the present department. Nothing overly stimulating, but it was a lean year all around. I do like everything I got, so that is good.
1. Earliest Present: Teal Scarf.
2. Best Present That Wasn’t Intended To Be So: Clinique Lipsticks.
3. Best Present That Will Be Used For A Purpose Other Than What It’s Intended For: Christmas Tree Pin.
4. Best Presents Bought When I Was Present: A Celtic Cross pin, and An Antique Gold/Marcasite Shamrock Pin from Germany.
5. Best Buy-It-Myself Gift: Giftcard to Borders from the Brown-eyed Distasios.
6. Best Present Carelessly Left Out For Me To See Last Week: Samantha’s Winter Coat and Hat for my AGC Samantha.
7. Best Unexpected Gifts: CD and Angel Ornament.
8. Best Collectible Gift: Princess of the Renaissance Barbie.
9. Best I Bought It For Myself And Forgot I Told Mom To Give It To Me On Christmas Present: A miniature 2005 dayplanner.
10. Best Present Bought In A Hurry: A pair of Chandelier earrings to wear with my Christmas Eve outfit.
11. Best Childish Present: Mulan Special Edition DVD.
12. Best Coordinated Present: A Scarf/Head Warmer/Glove Set from the Blue-eyed Distasios.
13. Best Ladybug Gift: A Tiny, Ladybug change purse key ring from the Blue-eyed Distasios.
14. Best Present Yet-To-Be: A Longaberger Christmas Tree Candle Stand.
15. Funniest Packaging: My Gift From the Blue-eyed Distasios was a Boscov’s box with a circle and a slash going through the name. Hope told me, “It’s just a box.”
16. Most Creative Wrapping By Me: Sal’s Gift Certificate in an Egg Carton.
17. Most Enjoyed Gifts From Me: Mom’s Pfaltzgraff Winterberry Teapot & Dad’s Silent Drill Team DVD.
18. Best Present for A Puppy: A Black/White Pawprint Collar for Rosie.
I still have more presents coming, I believe. Those from my friends, and also from my Aunts. But this is what I have so far.
Find a picture of all of us in our scarves from this journal entry, here: Natalia was wearing Black before she changed into her jammies, and we didn’t plan it that way! We are, in order from left to right: Hope; Natalia; My Mother; Holly; Me; My Lone Puppy, Rosie; and Kayla down front.
See, every year, I make little fancy ribbon things to put around my ladies’ necks. This year, it was just Rosie. [weeps]. So, I got a scane of the same yarn that is used to make the scarves, and wrapped it around her neck until it was wide enough to look like a scarf---she was the hit of the party! Had Ariel been alive, she would have gotten a white one of the same material. Ariel loved Christmas with all the people and food droppings. I do still miss her. It was a little sad this year without her.
The song was the one I had planned to put at the end of the first entry here, for our family copes with laughter. And, I’m sure, Aunt Margery was laughing with us...
But I digress [guess which side of the family I take after]. The novel could be entirely about the main character at a funeral, listening to his/her relatives tell all these seemingly unimportant stories but learning a great message at the end. Something like…”Everyone dies someday.” Or, “Live life to the fullest.” Or, “Family is important.” I don’t know. I’d have to work on it. Am I crazy, or was this a movie already?
[shrugs] Anyway, the funeral was short, and much to my father’s dismay, they did not allow a time for people to offer comments. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that when the time comes for his funeral, there damn well better be time for people to offer words. As if we would consider otherwise! It wouldn’t be fitting with my father being who he is for us not to.
Aside from this, what struck me were a few things. The casket was copper and extremely beautiful. I didn’t think much of this except, “Oh, how pretty, I love copper!” Then I noticed the flowers from the family---hers not ours---they were pink and orangey-yellow gerbera daisies and roses with bits of other purple flowers. It bore a striking resemblance to what [for like three years up until a month ago] I had thought I’d like as a wedding bouquet [if that should ever happen, at this rate, it’s not looking good.] This struck me as odd, but again, didn’t notice much. The minister begins his eulogy and he mentions several things about Aunt Margery that made me do a double take: slushies were her beverage of choice, she taught Sunday School for many years, and she was the “cool aunt.”
You could have knocked me over with a feather. But what made me sad, and had I gotten around to posting this on the day in which it all happened, I would have said more on this, was that she lived life. She was a spitfire. And, what’s more, is that I don’t. It saddened me beyond reason. With the close of this year, I hope that I will try harder to do so in 2005. Although, every time I make a vow to change my life around it works well for like a day, and then it goes kaput. I need someone in my life to haul my ass out of bed at the butt crack of dawn and make me work at stuff. As Bill Cosby said, “I’m no good on my own…”
Apart from this, there were several odd happenings that day, also. WARNING, BACKSTORY AHEAD: My sister Holly was in a terrible car accident in 1986 that resulted in the death of my other sister, Hope’s, best friend, Beth. Holly had been driving over railroad tracks that didn’t have a crossing thinger and was hit by the oncoming train she didn’t see until it was too late. Beth was the only one of the four passengers that died. Holly barely made it, and was told she wouldn’t be able to have children, 18+ years and three children later, Holly is, blessedly, still with us.
Ever since then, Beth’s parents resented our family and have not even spoken with even my sister Hope, who had nothing really to do with the incident, and had suffered greatly by the loss. Beth was, after all, her very best friend in the whole world. I can even remember Beth, myself. And all my memories are happy ones. Beth was indirectly related to us through marriage. So, at the funeral, were Beth’s parents.
As we walked in, I was first struck by the parlor to the right [more on that later], and when I came to my senses to ask Hope about it, she was just staring blankly at the sign-in book. Four lines above where we were to write were the names of Beth’s parents. She didn’t know if she could handle it. But she seemed to make it through OK.
After the service, and coming out of the funeral home, still weirded out by that damn parlor, I was confused when a tiny little woman comes up to me and says, “It’s OK dear, you may hug me.” I thought she was just some distraught relative who needed a hug when it dawned on me: it was Beth’s mom. I apologized and said, “Oh, no, you’re mistaken, I’m not Hope, this is; I’m Rachel, the baby.” And I point. She was confused and said, “Oh my goodness! Little Rachel! My God, when did you become a grown-up!” I laughed and I said that I didn’t feel like a grown-up. She then went over and spoke with Hope and hugged her for the first time since 1986. Hope was immediately overcome with tears [surprise!] and Beth’s mom told her that she had thought I was Holly. Which I kinda figured the more I thought about it. But it was good to know that she was able to hug Holly, even though I wasn’t really her. And Hope couldn’t be happier or more amazed.
At the cemetery later (where Beth is also buried) I walked over to her gravestone, placed my hand on it, and gave a silent prayer of thanks to her for making Hope’s Christmas, nay, year.
While at the cemetery, I played Bard as I had a captive audience to my prattlings of our family’s history. I showed some of them where my great-grandfather, and first James to be born in America, David, was buried. [He is definitely one of my ancestral favorites.] I also enjoyed tormenting my cousin by telling her [repeatedly] that the whole reason the James family came over from Wales was because they were recruited by Mormons. This was some new information I found out. I also explained about the Mormon recruiting in Wales and how we are more than likely related [VERY distantly] to Jesse James. The funeral director seemed especially interested. Later that day at lunch, my Aunt Erin told me that my second cousin who lives in Florida, had finally resigned to giving us the James family bible. Aunt Erin was pleased to hear it since, afterall my father is the only son of an only son of an only son… I’m pleased because I’ve been itching to get my hands on this book for years!
So, yeah. Most definitely in a past life I was a Bard...someone who sat at the campfire with various musical instruments, singing ballads about heroes gone by and their great feats, complete with genealogical connections to her contemporaries.
And in the realm of weird past happenings, the front parlor of the funeral home. I have seen it before. It weirded me out because I saw it in a dream. And just to clarify, I asked around, and I had never sat foot in that funeral home in my life! But I remember seeing it in my dream, plain as day. Not only was it shaped and located similar to the dream, but also it had the same pinky peach carpet, cream-colored walls, pink and cream furniture, green draperies, glass encased manuscripts, and [and this is how I know this was the place of my dream] an ugly faux Egyptian sarcophagus. I know I have seen that before, and I know where I saw it before was that dream I had a month or so ago. And I remember thinking in the dream that the Egyptian sarcophagus was ugly. But, apparently, I had never seen this place before in my life.
Something else weird, some guy there thought I was my father’s wife. I think he was about ready to slap dad on the back when he said this. Um, yeah. Ewh.
As far as things go, actual Christmas wasn’t bad. There were no problems with the brother in-laws, indeed, Mike and I were joking around, and Gary was in a good mood! Makes me worry about what is in store for the next year…
I did well enough in the present department. Nothing overly stimulating, but it was a lean year all around. I do like everything I got, so that is good.
1. Earliest Present: Teal Scarf.
2. Best Present That Wasn’t Intended To Be So: Clinique Lipsticks.
3. Best Present That Will Be Used For A Purpose Other Than What It’s Intended For: Christmas Tree Pin.
4. Best Presents Bought When I Was Present: A Celtic Cross pin, and An Antique Gold/Marcasite Shamrock Pin from Germany.
5. Best Buy-It-Myself Gift: Giftcard to Borders from the Brown-eyed Distasios.
6. Best Present Carelessly Left Out For Me To See Last Week: Samantha’s Winter Coat and Hat for my AGC Samantha.
7. Best Unexpected Gifts: CD and Angel Ornament.
8. Best Collectible Gift: Princess of the Renaissance Barbie.
9. Best I Bought It For Myself And Forgot I Told Mom To Give It To Me On Christmas Present: A miniature 2005 dayplanner.
10. Best Present Bought In A Hurry: A pair of Chandelier earrings to wear with my Christmas Eve outfit.
11. Best Childish Present: Mulan Special Edition DVD.
12. Best Coordinated Present: A Scarf/Head Warmer/Glove Set from the Blue-eyed Distasios.
13. Best Ladybug Gift: A Tiny, Ladybug change purse key ring from the Blue-eyed Distasios.
14. Best Present Yet-To-Be: A Longaberger Christmas Tree Candle Stand.
15. Funniest Packaging: My Gift From the Blue-eyed Distasios was a Boscov’s box with a circle and a slash going through the name. Hope told me, “It’s just a box.”
16. Most Creative Wrapping By Me: Sal’s Gift Certificate in an Egg Carton.
17. Most Enjoyed Gifts From Me: Mom’s Pfaltzgraff Winterberry Teapot & Dad’s Silent Drill Team DVD.
18. Best Present for A Puppy: A Black/White Pawprint Collar for Rosie.
I still have more presents coming, I believe. Those from my friends, and also from my Aunts. But this is what I have so far.
Find a picture of all of us in our scarves from this journal entry, here: Natalia was wearing Black before she changed into her jammies, and we didn’t plan it that way! We are, in order from left to right: Hope; Natalia; My Mother; Holly; Me; My Lone Puppy, Rosie; and Kayla down front.
See, every year, I make little fancy ribbon things to put around my ladies’ necks. This year, it was just Rosie. [weeps]. So, I got a scane of the same yarn that is used to make the scarves, and wrapped it around her neck until it was wide enough to look like a scarf---she was the hit of the party! Had Ariel been alive, she would have gotten a white one of the same material. Ariel loved Christmas with all the people and food droppings. I do still miss her. It was a little sad this year without her.
The song was the one I had planned to put at the end of the first entry here, for our family copes with laughter. And, I’m sure, Aunt Margery was laughing with us...