Friday, August 27, 2010

How to laugh at a later date over the death of a grandparent

So...I have realized that I really like to start posts with the word "so". So I might just start every single post with that. Moving along so the story matches the headline. (not to be confused with the carpet matching the drapes)
So how does one find humor in the death of a grandparent whom they loved very much you ask?
My maternal grandmother died back in 1995. Her death of course was not funny. The story that follows has it's moments. Hmmm, I wonder if this will translate in written form the same as it does in verbal. Because lord knows I love to get animated when I tell a story. Moving along...
Grandma died in 1995 right before Christmas. She was cremated so there was no rush for a service for her. Plus, it was right before Christmas and that was her favorite holiday of all. Grandma just loved Christmas. Everything about it. The family decided it would be better if we let grandma sorta hang around for the holidays, so my Aunt Donna who is an artist decided to take Grandma's urn and paint it up all fancy like and prop her up in front of the Christmas tree. You know, one last Christmas with the family. Nothing says family love like a hand painted urn with Grandma inside in front of the Christmas Tree. Right? *head tilt* Right?
I really am not all that sure what Donna did with Grandma between the end of the holidays and when they held the service and buried her ashes with Pop. Geez, maybe I should find out. That might be an entire story by ITSELF.
When it was time for Grandma's service I was unable to make the service (that in fact IS an entire story by itself. So we will for now leave it at I was unable to attend) ...I was unable to make the service but I thought it would be a neat (who says neat anymore?) for me to go to the little church around the corner from my office and have my own service simultaneously while the real service was going on. Oh, did I mention the service was taking place is Virginia? Well, it was. At 11:00am I drove to the little church and I parked my car. At this point, seeing the church, it hit me that I was going there because my grandma had died. And here come the water works. Now look, I don't cry very often but when I do let me tell you, I cry. Loudly. Like a schoolgirl. and I huff and puff and sob and look like a fool.
I get out of my car and I'm completely wrapped up in my own head and I walk into the church.
Oh my. Imagine my surprise when there is a casket at the front of the church and tons of mourners in the pews. A little shocked I stepped back for a moment. Then I thought "how perfect is this? I can cry like crazy and nobody will notice because they are sad too. This is awesome."
I sat in the very last pew all by myself just sobbing away. At one point I compose myself a bit and decide to listen to this dead person's service. You know, take some of it in.
And I hear...
"Santos Difuentos, nos hemos reunido hoy aqui para llorar la muerte de Delores" Then a lot of rambling with the ocassional "de Jesus" and "Delores" and more "de Jesus" and so on and so forth.
Now I realize that I was sitting in church but honest to God the words that went through my head were "oh fuck. These people are not white, I am not Mexican and there is no way that I can be inconspicuous. and now that these people are headed my way, casket first, there is no chance of escape."
And here they come. First came poor old dead Delores (may she rest in peace whoever she was) and then one by one by one by one hundred, the people came marching down the aisle. Not a one of them spoke English and every single one of them looked at me and not one of them could figure out who in the hell I was or why I was so sad to have lost Delores.
I am sure that what was going through their heads was "who the hell is this young white girl and why the hell is she so upset about old great grandma Delores? What kind of double life did old great grandma Delores have that this young white girl would be so clearly torn to pieces like this? Who is this girl???????" Of course none of them asked me and since none of them seemed to speak English I thought it best not to try and explain. I think there still has to be one or two of those folks who still to this day wonder who the hell I was and why I was so upset.
I left that church a complete wreck and found absolutely no humor in any of this. It wasn't until I talked to my Mother on the phone later that night (she was in Virginia) that I got the humor in it all. As I told my tragic story of Delores, she just laughed her ass off and told me that this was going to make a good story and one day I would laugh. Mom was right. Looking back at the death of both Grandma and Delores, I have a really great funeral story to tell and an embedded memory of the day that Grandma was buried. Thank you Delores for sharing your funeral with me and Grandma.