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Oct. 26th, 2012 10:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cblj_backupLucky: Were you pacing around upstairs at all last night?
Me: No -- I got up once or twice but never for very long.
Emmy: I didn't sleep well, but I didn't get up at all. Why?
Lucky: We both heard someone going up and down the stairs. Maybe it was the neighbors walking around their place.
Me: Well, Mama Tickey hasn't been upstairs since her hip replacement, maybe she wanted to check in on it.
We had the funeral on Thursday, which is when I wrote up most of this. We've been staying in Mama Tickey's house and weren't informed that everyone else was gathering there as well to go over to the funeral parlor, which was mildly unpleasant when the family started showing up while we were still getting ready. Nothing like living somewhere that a bunch of strangers consider second-home to really strip you of any sense of safety or privacy.
The pastor at the funeral was nice; he's retired and only does funerals now, which seems like a horrible job to me but to each their own. The service was short, though a bit heavy on the whole eternal-life-through-Christ-Jesus thing. At one point the pastor said "We than you, Lord, that Mama Tickey is victorious over death" and I thought, well, if anyone's going to be victorious over death, Mama Tickey's got good odds.
Mum: Did you get a program?
Lucky: All the players and their stats.
Emmy: You can't tell the corpses from the caskets without a program...
Once the service was over we had coffee and talked while they prepared Mama Tickey for transit. I am, apparently, "Sam from Chicago" to every single person Mama Tickey ever knew. "Oh! Sam! From Chicago!" I think half of Houston was there. I now know a lot of Houstonians. Or at least am known to them.
By the way, I thought Mama Tickey was the last of the southern belles, but it turns out there are still a few around and they were ALL AT THE FUNERAL.
At any rate, eventually we piled into our cars, put on our flashers, joined up with the cops, and drove out to the gravesite. I'd never actually been to a graveside service. I found it was weird that we bothered to have one given they didn't lower her into the ground or anything, but it was nice to see her final site, and the casket, which had a pretty Eastern Star emblem on it.
"It was fine, but why did we do it?" was the theme of the entire process. Nobody seemed to want to do most of it. The rest seemed to have no point.
We had a lunch reception after the graveside service; Crazy Aunt M asked a friend of hers to bring over food, so we ended up with ham sandwiches and cheetos. Class all the way, you guys. (Two of the cousins spent the entire viewing on Wednesday night drinking beer in the parking lot; one of them showed up to the funeral proper with chaw in his mouth, and the other brought a twenty-four pack of Bud Lite to the lunch.)
And then they all stayed.
Forever.
Someone fell asleep in a chair; a couple of people sat around using their phones; one woman and her daughter sat on the couch for three hours, not eating, not speaking, and were in fact the last to leave. Lucky's brothers got into an intense discussion of aluminum decking. One of my cousins read a magazine.
It was insane. THE RECEPTION IS OVER. GO THE FUCK HOME.
I wouldn't have cared, but we didn't get to leave when we wanted because we were staying at the house. Plus Crazy Aunt M kept trying to rummage around for valuables. I had to herd her out of the guest room where I was staying, twice. I wouldn't so much have minded her going in there, it's not my house after all, but she could have asked first, or given me a chance to tidy it up a little.
I should have snuck the soul-eating clown into her bag as she left. (Sorry for the size of that image btw, I had no idea it would post so huge.)
The upshot is really that I don't want any of Mama Tickey's things. I saw her mostly outside of her house, so they have no real value for me; I don't even know which ones had value to her. Mum doesn't want any of them either, but she doesn't want Crazy Aunt M to "win", so she's a little crazy herself. She keeps pointing out things I might like, which I either don't have room for or don't want because they're useless.
I don't think Lucky cares one way or another. I don't honestly think anyone cares except Crazy Aunt M and Mum, and Mum only cares because Aunt M's neurosis is contagious.
I did get to meet the Other Favourite Grandchild at lunch. He's nice enough, and certainly a cut above the rest of the cousins, but we don't have much in common aside from a shared relief that we escaped Texas.
Me: Tired, kiddo?
Emmy: I feel kind of gritty. Like, on the inside. Of my head.
Me: I know the feeling.
We spent the early evening debating whether we should go out because we all wanted steaks, or stay in because none of us wanted to move. Steaks won, but as soon as we got home after steaks, we pretty much passed out in the living room.
And this morning we're at McDonalds, sipping hot cocoa and computing. Mum sincerely can't believe she can't get fries before 10:30. She's asked three times.
Me: No -- I got up once or twice but never for very long.
Emmy: I didn't sleep well, but I didn't get up at all. Why?
Lucky: We both heard someone going up and down the stairs. Maybe it was the neighbors walking around their place.
Me: Well, Mama Tickey hasn't been upstairs since her hip replacement, maybe she wanted to check in on it.
We had the funeral on Thursday, which is when I wrote up most of this. We've been staying in Mama Tickey's house and weren't informed that everyone else was gathering there as well to go over to the funeral parlor, which was mildly unpleasant when the family started showing up while we were still getting ready. Nothing like living somewhere that a bunch of strangers consider second-home to really strip you of any sense of safety or privacy.
The pastor at the funeral was nice; he's retired and only does funerals now, which seems like a horrible job to me but to each their own. The service was short, though a bit heavy on the whole eternal-life-through-Christ-Jesus thing. At one point the pastor said "We than you, Lord, that Mama Tickey is victorious over death" and I thought, well, if anyone's going to be victorious over death, Mama Tickey's got good odds.
Mum: Did you get a program?
Lucky: All the players and their stats.
Emmy: You can't tell the corpses from the caskets without a program...
Once the service was over we had coffee and talked while they prepared Mama Tickey for transit. I am, apparently, "Sam from Chicago" to every single person Mama Tickey ever knew. "Oh! Sam! From Chicago!" I think half of Houston was there. I now know a lot of Houstonians. Or at least am known to them.
By the way, I thought Mama Tickey was the last of the southern belles, but it turns out there are still a few around and they were ALL AT THE FUNERAL.
At any rate, eventually we piled into our cars, put on our flashers, joined up with the cops, and drove out to the gravesite. I'd never actually been to a graveside service. I found it was weird that we bothered to have one given they didn't lower her into the ground or anything, but it was nice to see her final site, and the casket, which had a pretty Eastern Star emblem on it.
"It was fine, but why did we do it?" was the theme of the entire process. Nobody seemed to want to do most of it. The rest seemed to have no point.
We had a lunch reception after the graveside service; Crazy Aunt M asked a friend of hers to bring over food, so we ended up with ham sandwiches and cheetos. Class all the way, you guys. (Two of the cousins spent the entire viewing on Wednesday night drinking beer in the parking lot; one of them showed up to the funeral proper with chaw in his mouth, and the other brought a twenty-four pack of Bud Lite to the lunch.)
And then they all stayed.
Forever.
Someone fell asleep in a chair; a couple of people sat around using their phones; one woman and her daughter sat on the couch for three hours, not eating, not speaking, and were in fact the last to leave. Lucky's brothers got into an intense discussion of aluminum decking. One of my cousins read a magazine.
It was insane. THE RECEPTION IS OVER. GO THE FUCK HOME.
I wouldn't have cared, but we didn't get to leave when we wanted because we were staying at the house. Plus Crazy Aunt M kept trying to rummage around for valuables. I had to herd her out of the guest room where I was staying, twice. I wouldn't so much have minded her going in there, it's not my house after all, but she could have asked first, or given me a chance to tidy it up a little.
I should have snuck the soul-eating clown into her bag as she left. (Sorry for the size of that image btw, I had no idea it would post so huge.)
The upshot is really that I don't want any of Mama Tickey's things. I saw her mostly outside of her house, so they have no real value for me; I don't even know which ones had value to her. Mum doesn't want any of them either, but she doesn't want Crazy Aunt M to "win", so she's a little crazy herself. She keeps pointing out things I might like, which I either don't have room for or don't want because they're useless.
I don't think Lucky cares one way or another. I don't honestly think anyone cares except Crazy Aunt M and Mum, and Mum only cares because Aunt M's neurosis is contagious.
I did get to meet the Other Favourite Grandchild at lunch. He's nice enough, and certainly a cut above the rest of the cousins, but we don't have much in common aside from a shared relief that we escaped Texas.
Me: Tired, kiddo?
Emmy: I feel kind of gritty. Like, on the inside. Of my head.
Me: I know the feeling.
We spent the early evening debating whether we should go out because we all wanted steaks, or stay in because none of us wanted to move. Steaks won, but as soon as we got home after steaks, we pretty much passed out in the living room.
And this morning we're at McDonalds, sipping hot cocoa and computing. Mum sincerely can't believe she can't get fries before 10:30. She's asked three times.
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no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 03:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 12:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 03:58 pm (UTC)I know that in many cases, funerals turn into family reunions. In fact, it was at a funeral for one of my cousins that my maternal grandfather's family decided to hold biennial reunions so we would not always have to meet up at funerals.
Edited to add:
And I almost forgot about an aunt who went on a "protecting" spree at her sister-in-law's house, she protected everything so well (by shipping it all to her home three states away), that there was no place for people to sit after the funeral!
no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 04:05 pm (UTC)Meanwhile, I'm more upset that I can't have a Egg McMuffin AFTER 10:30. Who the hell eats lunch at 10:30?! BREAKFAST SHOULD LAST UNTIL NOON :(
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Date: 2012-10-27 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 04:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 04:27 pm (UTC)Your Crazy Aunt M sounds like how I fear one of my cousins is going to act come my grandmother's funeral. This woman has already said things like "I'm the oldest cousin so I get the crystal from the china cabinet when Grandma's gone" within earshot of my grandmother. I do not care who gets the crystal, mind you. I would much rather have my grandmother. However, unlike my cousin, I have the rather-horrible satisfaction of actually knowing how Grandma's splitting things in the will. I know this because she's splitting it amongst her kids, not her grandchildren, with the exception of my brother and I because our dad (her son) died when I was eight, thus we get his "share" so to speak. I have no idea what specifically that entails, nor do I care, except for knowing that my cousin is going to have a FIT when she realizes things are going to my aunt instead of her.
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Date: 2012-10-26 05:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-27 01:11 pm (UTC) - Expand(no subject)
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Date: 2012-10-27 09:02 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-10-26 05:27 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-10-27 09:12 pm (UTC)Also a flake; she ended up just deciding not to do it, the night before the funeral, so they went out and bought a bunch of stuff from HEB instead.
It deeply pissed off the Eastern Star women, who I ended up entertaining in the kitchen for a good long while.
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Date: 2012-10-26 08:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 10:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 12:10 am (UTC)You can't get fries before 10:30, but you can get hash browns!
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Date: 2012-10-27 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 02:30 am (UTC)- Husband's sister and sister-in-law have started a feud over the funeral of my father-in-law, who I might add didn't want a funeral. Not sure what happened there, but apparently the memo of "we're going to go put the ashes in the ground around X day" was missed and... yeahhhh. Suddenly not missing having siblings, turns out.
- In the aftermath of one grandfather's funeral, my father ripped his pants from zipper to waistband while bringing flowers into the house. Black pants, white boxers. I was only eight; I was confused. The widow, on the other hand, was on the floor laughing.
- Same grandfather - not only did he manage to die on my birthday... the day of the funeral, it started icing in Dallas. (We were down near New Orleans for the funeral.) And then the ice came south. By the next afternoon, we could not, in fact, head north in either state. They shut down the damned highways. It stayed that way for two weeks. I guess my grandfather wanted me to see Mardi Gras...
- At my other grandfather's funeral - my dad's dad - he and his uncle, who were pallbearers, almost dropped the casket on the way to the tomb.
- At the reception afterwards, my insane aunt - who I have "affectionately" compared to a chain-smoking chihuahua at times - managed to piss off my mother (simple), me (harder) and my dad (nearly impossible). Her line to me was something to the effect of, "Of course you didn't know your grandfather as well as my sons do." I'm sure she meant something other than what it came across as...
- At my grandmother's wake, I got to sit on the couch in front of the body with two of my mom's great-aunts. These esteemed ladies, who are somewhere in their 90s, are what might politely be called characters. One might even call them "cantankerous old biddies" - particularly the one who has declared that she wants to be buried in a Dixie beer can. They spent a good fifteen minutes arguing about what time they had left home to come to the funeral. Fifteen. Minutes. In front of the body. It was all I could do to not fall over laughing.
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Date: 2012-10-27 04:46 am (UTC)About 20 min into the trip my Great Uncle's car breaks down. Because we are all following him, Dad pulls over right behind him, jumps out in his flannel shirt and jeans and starts waving our caravan off to the side, so we don't get separated. Unfortunately, we were in a construction zone, and all the other drivers on the road started pulling over as well. At one point we had about 10 cars and 2 semis stopped.
It only got better when we stopped to change an hour and a half later. Being the youngest I was forced to go last. As I went into the gas station bathroom everyone else loaded up and took off. They were out of the parking lot when I came out. I was forced to try to chase after them in heels, waving my hands like a mad woman, before they turned around and realized I wasn't there.
To this day whenever anyone talks about grandma, or funerals that story comes out, and everyone cracks up. Just the way she would have wanted.
(no subject)
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From:no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 04:14 am (UTC)I've been to a number of funerals, some for cremation, some in a hall and some graveside. All have had the lowering of the coffin in some form, so that it disappeared from sight of the mourners.
When I was 22, one of my best friends passed away. His funeral was a service in a hall, and then graveside to witness the lowering of the casket. The nicest part of the funeral was our other childhood friend who threw in a D&D dice set into the grave for our friend & DM.
My grandmother's funeral was an open casket*, full Orthodox church service (one person took photos so our family could relive the memories, including the part of the service where the family get to kiss the corpse goodbye o.O) followed by another service next to her grave before the casket was lowered into the ground. Totally awesome except for the fact we didn't understand a word the priest was saying. Then the family threw flowers & dirt, guests threw dirt.
The wake itself was horrible. A house full of "friends" I didn't know, (I spent a lot of time with my grandmother that I should have met them at some point in my life, most of her friends had already passed away) eating, drinking and going through her house, being nosy. The estranged Aunt who'd come home for the funeral had invited some friends; they didn't leave until the booze ran out. Then my father said something horrible to my sister, I lost my temper and tore strips off him; something to this day I do not regret.
*I don't understand why family bother with an open casket. No one I've seen looks as they did before they died. Both of my grandmothers were made up by the morticians in such a way they'd be horrified; one so bloated with formaldehyde that she'd lost her wrinkles, the other had clownish makeup & hair had not been brushed at all. Not the way I wanted my last memories of them to be.
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Date: 2012-10-27 05:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 05:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 05:54 am (UTC)I love her; I'll miss her terribly until we meet again, which I have no doubt that we will. She has always been a cantankerous, bitchy, wildly creative woman with a stubborn streak a mile wide and the wickedest and most loving grin in the world. Somehow I just can't see that changing just because her body is now ashes.
She specified that there should be no viewing (which in the Deep South (NW Florida, Panama City, to be precise) is sacrilege); she also specified immediate cremation, no service, and a somewhat cranked-down Irish-style wake. Oh, the uproar... The wake is tomorrow afternoon, and I expect to get rather drunk on good whiskey and to eat a lot of good food; the food just keeps showing up-- you know how it is here in the South-- and afterwards to collapse in a maudlin heap of the tears I'm having trouble shedding at the moment. There's gonna be fifty fucktons of people at the wake; my brother-in-law put notices in the newspapers of two towns. Dear gods of my mothers, this is gonna be a goatrope.
So... just so you know... I can feel for you. Wish me luck, please, and that nobody punches anybody over what Great-Aunt Peggy Said To Jo-Carol or about how Cousin Rusty Stole That Stuff, I Know He Did, From Uncle Jimbo. My sister'd be very, very amused, and hopefully she'll be hoisting a glass of her own in the Summerland at her own personal wake. Wonder if they call it a 'sleep' there? Heh.
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Date: 2012-10-27 08:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2012-10-27 03:43 pm (UTC)My husband's grandmother (dad's mom) died a couple weeks before our wedding, and we flew out to MN for that. Apparently in Finland, you bury your own dead. And, since she was cremated and just in a small box... We buried her. A small hole had been dug for us but we all took turns (immediate family and children, and then me -- almost-wife). Andy's mom is a UU minister, so she did all the talking. It was peaceful, moving, and exactly what you want out of a ceremony.
Of course, then we had to go to church and attend a service and a lunch but at least nothing was hosted at our house, and we got to go home at the end of the day. Andy's dad insisted on no direct Jesus references in the service, so that was actually pretty good, and then Andy & I spent most of lunch looking at pictures and crying. We did make friends with the family members we hadn't met (none of whom were invited to our wedding; slightly awkward).
My other grandfather's funeral was the one where there was chaos; what I was wearing was a matter of huge debate and made very little sense. I packed about four outfits, which was good because my sister needed to borrow some of my items. That was definitely the overdone, too complicated, everyone is too stressed to appreciate what is actually going on here, type of funeral. I'm sure my grandmother's will be the same (though at the moment, she's in good health).
no subject
Date: 2012-10-28 02:20 pm (UTC)I'm glad you all survived the funeral. They're stressful at the best of times, and all the extended family together at once can be kind of madness-inducing.