A Funeral Means Family

Jul 22, 2005 00:32

You know the old saying, "You can't live with your family and you can't trade them in for a porsche." Well I've been repeating this in my head all summer long, and about a thousand times a minute after nearly three weeks of a funeral and family extravaganza.
It all satarted on a Monday morning, I believe it was July 11. I awoke to a rainy morning, and was about to shower and drive 120mi. to the nearest dermotologist when i heard some crying outside the cheap ass hollow door of my wonderful family rent-house (thats another story). My Grandpa had just passed away that morning. Well they thought he had passed away, but no one would pronounce him dead. My Grandma found him in a chair and tried to wake him without success. She knew this would be coming anyday now so she called her son that lived only a few miles away. He told her that she needed to call the paramedics, but she refused to do anything until he got there. So he gets there and they call the medics who come an try to revive my old papa without success, and say that he had probly only been dead for aboutf 25 minutes. Meaning that my grandma probly could have saved his life had she called earlier, but thats not at all where this story is going. It's a damn good thing I don't plan on becoming a writer...haha. So they take him to the hospital...dead...but they can't pronounce him dead. Once my papa's body is at the hospital, they attatch an IV to him and wait for someone to come with the ability and insurance polocies big enough to pronounce him dead. I'm not really sure what happened there, but I'm just going to go with someone finally pronounce him dead cause the next day I saw his lifeless body in a cascket.
So on this monday I'm at home in limbo for a few hours not knowing what to do cause no one can decide if my grandpa is living or not. Is it just me, or is something terribly wrong with all of that? So I cancel my appoinment. Then I realize that I'm supposed to go to boston that very same week. Yes my papa, as I called him, had picked the most inconvienient time to die. Yes, this is selfish of me to say, but it's true. My summer if very open, except for that week, but thats still not where this stupid story is going.
Anyway, we had a nice service and scatered his ashes at the race track so that my papa could be with one of his favorite addictions eternaly. Wow, this really is a wondering mess, but anyway...Of course there has to be a family event after a funeral. Cause you know, there is nothing that says we love you like gettting together after your dead so you can't enjoy it. Yep...we all do it. In my family, any ocasion is a drinking ocasion. So one night I was standing in the kitchen with some of my cousins. We were prolly all a lil drunk, and the cousin, by marriage, and some of us were talking. A convo about shirt colars came up or something and how so and so's was bent and on and on. And then they are like, but Taylor's isn't and the cousin by marriage says, "Well Taylor has that metrosexual thing going on." I almost couldn't contain myself. I just kinda smirked, had some awkward laughter, and walked away to fix another stiff drink to get me through the funeral induced family drinking week.
There are more stories to tell but im too destracted at the moment.....later.
Next post
Up
[]