Home Sweet Home

I got home about an hour ago from Niles, MI the birthplace of my parents and most recently, the final resting place for my mother’s oldest sister. Her death was unexpected, but I was never close to her and mainly went to the funeral to support my mother (you have to do that when you are the daughter of the black sheep of the family). I have to say, after the death of my dear friend’s pre-mature baby, my grandmother and a family friend recently, it was kind of nice to have some organized grief.

It was great to see my cousins, who are much older then me and their kids, who are much younger then me.  We actually had a lot of laughs and such.  However, to see my six second cousins (age 13-23) act as pallbearers at their grandmother’s funeral was pretty tough. I couldn’t imagine, even at 33, having that responsibility.

I will admit that I was kinda ticked at my grandma for not wanting any sort of funeral, etc… It’s not about the person, who dies, it’s about the people who remain.  Who will miss this person and share memories.  I know my little second cousins got some closure that I don’t think I have, but that doesn’t mean they needed to carry that casket.

The good thing about all of this was that I got to spend an evening with friends that I have had forever.  Friends who are more family to me then any of the countless relatives I had seen the previous few days.  Friends who I can not talk to for months or years and it simply doesn’t matter.  There is a comfort in these friendships that I cannot even begin to explain. It’s like I don’t actively think about them a lot, but they are always on my mind and in my heart. I know how lucky I am to have these friends and that not a lot of people have that type of friendship.  I only wish that we had had more time then the few hours we had at the fish fry at The Elks (Lodge 1322)—-not really my scene, although I’ve known the current “Exalted Ruler” my whole life.  I also got hit on my a cute corn fed midwestern boy, who ended up being about 24 years old.  AWWWW YEAH, too bad that is 2 years below my arbitrary minimum age limit, but he did buy me a drink.

All of this funereal fun made me miss the big anniversary party at work.  That sucked big time.  I didn’t have the “escort” I wanted lined up or really anything to wear, but I am pretty sure I missed a good time. I was tempted to call and get a report, but I figured that will give me something to look forward to at work on Monday. I also was so wiped out from the last few days that I skipped the costume party/wedding shower I was supposed to go to tonight. I had high hopes for that party too…. but, alas, I fear those hopes were not meant to be, at that party, or anywhere else.  OK…that was a bit dramatic, but these last few weeks of death have got me questioning my place in the world.

I’ve been wondering what the point is of my life.  If I don’t “breed”–then what am I here for?  I don’t think I’m going to cure cancer or write the great american novel or travel around the world by myself in  a kayak.  I listened to the TERRIBLE “eulogy” at my Aunt’s funeral and wondered what people would say about me.  “She was alright.  Could hold her vodka, but don’t give her shots.  She loved her pets and her purses.  Could shoe shop like nobody’s business. That’s about it….”  I mean GOOD GOD!  The best quote anyone came up with to tell the pastor about my Aunt was “Don’t eat the potato salad at a picnic.”  When I heard that I thought I would rather nothing be said if that was the best people could come up with for me, but then I wondered if there was anything better to come up with.  I don’t know, all this death makes ya think a lot about life—isn’t THAT ironic (probably not…Alanis has confused me forever on the whole theory of irony) and all this thinking is wearing me out.

I think I’ll go let my dog love me. I bet he would give me a GREAT eulogy, you know, if he could talk.