people have different ways of dealing with the loss of a loved one. some turn to poetry, some turn to food, and i turn to comedy. naturally.
recently i lost my grandmother. the sweetest little old lady that you’ve probably never met succumbed to the perils of aging and quietly passed away on March 6 of this year. there was the visitation at the funeral home, the catholic church service and then the luncheon following the mass. all were pretty standard functions, minus the fact that renee carol was in attendance. what follows below should not be interpreted as a sign of disrespect, but more of final salute to my sweet little grandmother. out of her four grandchildren, she knew that i was most likely the one to stick her foot in her mouth and do stupid and outlandish things. so, blogging in her honor is my way of saying, “farewell, Nana. i love you always!”
now let’s immortalize you on the internet.
funerals are always a drag. yes, there is the obvious reason that people are gathering to mourn the loss of a loved one, and then there’s the realization that hits you when you notice how many bat-shit crazy people you are directly related to. i figure there’s no getting around it. someday (arguably if not already) i will lose my damn mind along with the control of my bowels. when the paternal AND maternal sides of your family show signs of delusion, you’re pretty much fucked.
the visitation for my Nana was on a sunday afternoon. as horrible as this is to admit, i couldn’t stay for the whole thing because i had other things that needed to be done before the weekend was over. Nana was always pretty understanding, so i knew she wouldn’t be mad at me for not staying the whole eight hours. i didn’t go up and look at her in the coffin because we all pretty much know the dead body of a loved one never looks as wonderful as the living thing. i decided to pay my respects to her photos, instead. my grandma was a short little thing with wavy red hair and looked like a pinup girl. blessed with twin torpedoes on her chest, she was a buxom bombshell until the day she died. my grandpa wasn’t a fool, and you could clearly see that he knew what true beauty was. unconditional love was definitely present in all of the photographs that they shared together, and it was nice to see that marriage surviving past 72 days was, and is, a possibility (ahem, kim kardashian).
after flipping through the pictures and trying to avoid direct eye contact with relatives that you know you really can’t tolerate mingling with, my mother dragged my brother and me out to meet some of her friends. i figured, hey, if they know i am the spawn of nancy carol, i can pretty much say anything dumb and get away with it.
“this is my son, brian,” she said as she pointed to my brother. “he’s two years younger than renee, but he owns his own house and works with computers.”
ah, so it’s going to be like that? i wondered how many people she had already given that introduction to behind my back.
“…and i’m renee, the one with two part time jobs, still in school and struggling to be a young professional,” i said. “but it’s nice to meet you.”
“oh, she’s just like you,” the women said to my mother, laughing. sure, i was trying to lighten the mood with my comedy, but what i was saying was also true. too bad i wasn’t kidding about the mediocrity of my life.
while chatting with the people that i wasn’t trying to avoid and overhearing conversations, my roommate and i mentioned that there should be a list of things that one shouldn’t say out loud at a funeral. ringing in at the top of that list was, “hey there, (insert name). how are you doing?” to which the response was, “well, i’m still breathing.”
i kid you not. we all say it in everyday life without even thinking. when it slips out in this particular scenario, you can’t help but laugh at the awkward timing of the expelled phrase.
that was just one instance among many other catch-phrases and horrible outfits on display. when i decided it was time to go, my brother and i said our goodbyes and crawled out the door. i had enough awkward family moments for one day, i needed to rest up for part deux.
the day of the funeral service was horrible weather. rainy, a little chilly and just plain gloomy. being the complete opposite of my butch mother, i wore 5-inch platform heels with a skirt to the church service. you’ll find out later why this was a bad idea, but for the time being, i’ll inform you that just two nights prior, i was hanging out with friends in downtown royal oak and tripped over a set of train tracks. my knees took a minor beating, but i was hell-bent on wearing skirts this weekend to the funeral services. i don’t get to break out my fancy heels all of the time, so dressing up and showcasing my addiction to bargain-buy designer pumps prevailed. my skirt, high heels and bashed up knees were on display for jesus and my grandmother.
while i was sitting in the church pew, i kept glancing at the statue of jesus on the cross. and what would you know?!? he has bilateral bloody knees, as well…however i doubt his were from clumsily tripping over railroad tracks in downtown royal oak.
the ceremony was a catholic one (read a very, very long one) and my brother and i had no idea what in the hell to do at what time. stand up, sit down, chant, father, son, holy spirit, throw up a gang sign, hug your neighbor, etc. the body of christ was offered and i almost thought about eating it because my stomach was singing along with the church hymns. i retracted that idea when i saw the priest attempt to swallow the cracker, but instead look like he had just embarked on the Saltine challenge. (don’t know what that is? youtube it.)
i’m not catholic, so i knew eating the body of christ (or just being in church, for that matter) was probably a bad decision. as i was thinking about that, i started to smell burning. literally, the scent of something burning was lingering in the air. okay, okay, jesus, i’m sorry i am so hungry i thought about devouring your body and then some, but knock it off with this burning smell.
i wasn’t the only one who smelled it, so at least i know someone else had been as hungry as i was and was thinking about inappropriately eating a christ cracker.
we stood up and sat down some more for the service and then my mother leaned over to me in the pew. “we just heard that you and your brother are going to help be pallbearers,” she whispered.
“are you kidding me?!? did you see my shoes? this could be bad!” i said in despair.
“well, your dad said that if you can walk in them, then you’ll be fine.”
fan-freaking-tastic. at this point, i really regretted wanting to chow down on a christ cracker out of my own selfishness. i get the point. i had inappropriate thoughts about eating a wafer when i’m not catholic and now i have to help carry out my Nana’s casket in heels. POINT TAKEN.
when all was said and done, me and five other relatives took our positions on each side of the casket. now mind you, this church was not set up for someone to walk in the door, hand-in-hand, let alone while bear-hugging a casket. to say it was a tight squeeze would be an understatement. also, my family is shockingly not made up of tall, swedish models, either. two people plus a casket walking through the door frame of the church must have looked ridiculous to whomever was standing on the outside. we probably all looked like baby hogs emerging from a birth canal with the way we were squeezing out.
when the casket was out the door, then it was time to descend the small staircase to the street. the stairs and railing posed the same threat; too many people, not enough room. we maneuvered our way down the few steps with only a minor incident when my hips decided that they wanted to become comfortably wedged between the casket and the hand rail. i thought that maybe no one had noticed until my uncle, who was traveling behind me, said, “don’t worry, i’m wearing my fat suit today.”
awesome! i had to reply, “yeah, i wear this ass everyday.”
directly following the service was the luncheon at the catholic school behind the church. my brother, roommate and i walked in to the gymnasium where it was being held and the first thing out of my mouth was, “i bet we could have a bitchin’ game of dodgeball in here.”
“did you really just say that?” my roommate asked.
of course i did. i verbalize all of my asinine thoughts. i don’t think my grandmother would have expected it any other way.
rest in peace, Nana. you will continue to be loved and missed tremendously…and i promise to never change from the granddaughter that you knew and loved unconditionally.
thank you for my hall pass to continue to be a dumbass. i won’t let you down!
