(no subject)
My grandmother's funeral was today. Well, not today. Technically it was yesterday. But between waking up and going to sleep (my next step) she was eulogized and blessed and sent into whatever awaits her next. I like to think it's heaven, but maybe she's a butterfly or perhaps even another human. Who am I to say what happens after death? I don't want to seem arrogant. Friday night was tough. I spent the night with my sister and brother at my grandfather's house and he made a turkey dinner and I was quite pleased to discover that he could actually cook very well. Besides barbequeing I don't really remember him cooking all that much. That was always Nana's job. But he was quite apt and seemed excited to have us all there. We played Scrabble and watched the ballgame. He and I had a beer, which was nice, and then he had himself a couple of scotches and told us a bunch of family stories. Whenever the stories strayed to Nana's involvement he trailed off and started a new one. He seemed like he wanted to avoid talking about her and keep his mind away from today's service, which was actually the primary reason for our spending the night anyways. He was quiet at the mass today. When the priest motioned him up to cover the urn with the white sheet he did so almost aloofly and made his way back to the seat, although maybe a little hesitantly.
Nothing about the past few weeks has really felt real. When I got to the beach I really expected her to be sorting her mail on the porch and getting up and opening the front door before we even got out of the car, which was what she always did. Obviously that didn't happen. I guess, in a spiritual sense, she was there.
He went to bed a little bit before I did. I actually took some notes on his behavior because, well, that's what I do. I guess it's the psychologist in me :0p. When I was done I went up to go to bed but actually found some videos on the shelf that I had never noticed before. I popped one in and smiled when the first image I saw was her in the side door to the house in Andover where she lived for most of her life that I was a part of. It was haunting in a way. But nice since she really was there. A physical manifestation of my memories. I was sledding down the hill with my parents and my uncles (the latter of which I thanked today for repeatedly dragging my 4-year-old ass up that hill on my sled) and my grandfather was behind the camera dictating the action.
It was like a funeral reunion. A lot of the people I saw today I hadn't seen since my great uncle's funeral when I was in 7th grade. His wife, my great aunt, was there too. Hadn't seen her since then either. It was actually sad that she didn't recognize me, but it made sence since I've grown about a foot and a half and a beard since the last time she saw me. She mentioned that it was kind of sad that I wasn't able to go down to FL to visit Nana while she was in the hospital, but I told her that I was glad I didn't. I'm glad that my last [visual] memory of her doesn't involve tubes and ekg's. I did get to say goodbye to her, though. She was in a coma and couldn't really respond. But my dad told me the next day, the day she died, that all of her monitors went up when she heard my voice, so I know she heard me.
I helped my dad put her ashes into the urn before the service. I felt a little strange about it, very sad. But how must he have felt? The eulogy he delivered was very heart-felt and humorous, which is what she would have wanted. There was a kind of Jerry-Seinfeld-meets-Tim-Burton feel to it (morbidly funny, I suppose. although the morbidity came purely from the fact that we were at a funeral). There were pictures too. Lots of pictures. Most of them I've seen hundreds of times over. Some were new to me. There was one picture where she was holding a baby alligator during her trip to Australia. That seemed very surreal to me since I brought in a salamander one time when I was little and she damn-near kicked me out the door and made me put it back where I found it.
I found out yesterday that during her physical therapy sessions they would do a kind of animal therapy (which isn't that uncommon) and she loved playing with the cats/kittens they brought in (they also brought in dogs and other nice, fuzzy things). One of my favorite memories is sitting outside the house watching the annual bike-race in Aodover. A cat came up to her and she freaked out and ran away screaming about how she "can't stand those friggin' beasts" (I like to think she was partially involved in giving me my potty mouth).
I found my last birthday card when I came home. It made me smile. It was simple. A calm lighthouse and an inspirational birthday message followed by " It's nice that they gave you a week off from school for your birthday / Love, Nana and GF." She was already in the hospital at that point and I don't remember the last card that Grandfather signed... I appreciate the humor. My birthday just happens to fall during U-Mass's spring break.
Nothing about the past few weeks has really felt real. When I got to the beach I really expected her to be sorting her mail on the porch and getting up and opening the front door before we even got out of the car, which was what she always did. Obviously that didn't happen. I guess, in a spiritual sense, she was there.
He went to bed a little bit before I did. I actually took some notes on his behavior because, well, that's what I do. I guess it's the psychologist in me :0p. When I was done I went up to go to bed but actually found some videos on the shelf that I had never noticed before. I popped one in and smiled when the first image I saw was her in the side door to the house in Andover where she lived for most of her life that I was a part of. It was haunting in a way. But nice since she really was there. A physical manifestation of my memories. I was sledding down the hill with my parents and my uncles (the latter of which I thanked today for repeatedly dragging my 4-year-old ass up that hill on my sled) and my grandfather was behind the camera dictating the action.
It was like a funeral reunion. A lot of the people I saw today I hadn't seen since my great uncle's funeral when I was in 7th grade. His wife, my great aunt, was there too. Hadn't seen her since then either. It was actually sad that she didn't recognize me, but it made sence since I've grown about a foot and a half and a beard since the last time she saw me. She mentioned that it was kind of sad that I wasn't able to go down to FL to visit Nana while she was in the hospital, but I told her that I was glad I didn't. I'm glad that my last [visual] memory of her doesn't involve tubes and ekg's. I did get to say goodbye to her, though. She was in a coma and couldn't really respond. But my dad told me the next day, the day she died, that all of her monitors went up when she heard my voice, so I know she heard me.
I helped my dad put her ashes into the urn before the service. I felt a little strange about it, very sad. But how must he have felt? The eulogy he delivered was very heart-felt and humorous, which is what she would have wanted. There was a kind of Jerry-Seinfeld-meets-Tim-Burton feel to it (morbidly funny, I suppose. although the morbidity came purely from the fact that we were at a funeral). There were pictures too. Lots of pictures. Most of them I've seen hundreds of times over. Some were new to me. There was one picture where she was holding a baby alligator during her trip to Australia. That seemed very surreal to me since I brought in a salamander one time when I was little and she damn-near kicked me out the door and made me put it back where I found it.
I found out yesterday that during her physical therapy sessions they would do a kind of animal therapy (which isn't that uncommon) and she loved playing with the cats/kittens they brought in (they also brought in dogs and other nice, fuzzy things). One of my favorite memories is sitting outside the house watching the annual bike-race in Aodover. A cat came up to her and she freaked out and ran away screaming about how she "can't stand those friggin' beasts" (I like to think she was partially involved in giving me my potty mouth).
I found my last birthday card when I came home. It made me smile. It was simple. A calm lighthouse and an inspirational birthday message followed by " It's nice that they gave you a week off from school for your birthday / Love, Nana and GF." She was already in the hospital at that point and I don't remember the last card that Grandfather signed... I appreciate the humor. My birthday just happens to fall during U-Mass's spring break.