Funerals, Family and Fun

 Funerals can be fun.  At least they can be if you come from an irreverent family like mine.  There are of course tears, copious amounts of tears, but at least some of those come because you are laughing.  My Grandma lived a good life; she used it up, wrung it out and then went back for more.  This was never more evident than at her funeral.  She was a fantastic lady, lived a fantastic life and raised a fantastic family.  I am so profoundly grateful to be a part of that family.

My grandparents had six kids, all of them married and had kids, LOTS of kids.  I have 31 cousins on my dad's side,  all but four were there (one just happened to be hanging out with my grandma on the other side).  We live all over the country, we range in age from 50 to 21, we are about as different as you can get and yet, it doesn't matter .  Maybe it's because we share the same gene pool, or maybe, and more likely, we were all raised by people who were raised by the same people (did you follow that?).  Either way, it doesn't really matter, because what you end up with is 30 people that are pretty awesome to spend time with.  Grandma's funeral was one part funeral and two parts family reunion.  We spent the weekend reminiscing, reacquainting,  and firmly committing to spend more time with each other.  I honestly think that's exactly what my grandma would have wanted.

Now in the interest of posterity I will share my favorite memories from this weekend:

1.  When my cousin Tom walked in I turned to my cousin Barbara and said, pointing at Tom, "Look, Grandma was so awesome that Donny Osmond came to her funeral."  From then on out Barb laughed every time she saw him.  That may seem odd to you, but I present, Tom:

Uncanny, isn't it?  P.S. Sorry, Tom, if you read this and it's embarrassing.

2.  My dad telling me that when he dies he wants me to give the life sketch and that if I take more than 15 minutes he'll get up and tell me to shut up and sit down.  He really would, and it made me laugh.

3.  The flower arrangement that I had done for my Grandma from her grandkids:

She'll probably come back and haunt me for letting them put cheap chocolate on her flowers, but they were awsome!

4.  This conversation between my daughter and my cousin's son:
A.J.(4) and Evie(5) are looking at Grandma in her casket

A.J.:  When this is over they are going to close the lid and then she will turn into a skeleton and then a ghost.

Evie:  (rolling her eyes) That doesn't happen, you have to take off your skin to be a skeleton.

A.J.: (nodding sagely) True.

Then they walk away.

5.  As my grandma was passing, my uncle thought it might be nice if they played MoTab singing the hymns.  Now we can debate the helpfulness of hearing "Press Forward Saints" as you go towards the light, but that was not my favorite part.  That came later when my dad said he would like us to play Pink Floyd's "The Wall" as he goes.

6.  Putting together the photo montage DVD of Grandma's life and finding this:

And this:

And these:

From when Grandad was wounded in action on one of his bombing runs.

Grandad in front of his plane the "Dinah Might".  That's my grandma's name on the right above his head.

And finally these:

 That's what my Grandma did on her 80th birthday.  Parasailing in Hawaii with a 650 ft. long rope.  They wanted to put her on the short rope and she got mad.  She was the oldest person they had ever flown.  She did that in her knee high pantyhose and walking shoes.  Remember how I said she was fantastic?

7.  Learning that, at least once, my grandparents had a "quickie" in a closet at Grandad's work. 

There are more but most of them contain family "secrets" that probably shouldn't be shared on a public blog.  Perhaps that caveat should have included that last one, but really, that was too good to not share.  All in all it was good day.  A fitting tribute to a woman who was all about her family.  Man, we're going to miss her.

Death is a funny thing.  Not funny as in "haha", but funny as in odd.  Despite a firm understanding of the plan of salvation, it doesn't change the fact that one day someone is here and the next day they are not.  Just gone.  Even when someone is ready to go, and my grandma was, it still leaves a ragged little hole that has to be filled by other things.  Mostly those other things are just life, the things we living do to keep on...well, living.  Problem is, those other things are also oddly shaped, not hole shaped at all, so no matter  how much you try to fill that hole it never really fills up completely, the ragged edges all exposed and hurt-y, until the simple passing of time does the job for you.  Time comes in and wears down the sharp corners and fills in the empty spaces and finally brings peace. 

I kinda like peace.