(no subject)

[cblj_backup]

Lucky: 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.

Comments

[frenchroast.livejournal.com]

I've been to a few graveside services before, and I've never seen them lower the casket. I'm starting to wonder if it's just one of those things they do on TV/movies, that doesn't happen in real life.

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.

[pocky_slash.livejournal.com]

At my grandmother's funeral this summer, they DID lower the casket, but it wasn't part of the service. We hung around for a little while looking at my grandfather's headstone (he died when my father was twelve) and hunting down other family members (and arguing over where to go for post-service lunch), so we just happened to be there when they did it and I can see why it's not a part of the service normally--they brought out a big, loud machine that slowly lowered the casket down and kind of ruined the bright, serene day. I mean, I didn't mind because I was fascinated by watching the whole process, but I can imagine it might be startling for grieving family members XD

[frenchroast.livejournal.com]

Ahh, that makes perfect sense. I thought maybe they didn't do it at the service in case they tilted the casket or dropped it too fast by accident.

[pocky_slash.livejournal.com]

It was really weird all around. They had to lay out they big plastic planks for the truck holding the machine to drive on, so as not to disturb the glass. The guys operating the machine and driving the truck were definitely dressed more like mechanics than funeral directors, and they had to clear out all the flowers and things. It drove home how superficial the whole thing is. But it was really cool to watch!

[kit-maxel.livejournal.com]

My friend's little sister died a couple years ago; when they brought out the earth movers my friend started crying-laughing, "She'd be so excited, there are transformers at her funeral!"

[nakki.livejournal.com]

"I've been to a few graveside services before, and I've never seen them lower the casket. I'm starting to wonder if it's just one of those things they do on TV/movies, that doesn't happen in real life."

My oma died shortly after the Daredevil movie came out and it was raining the day of the funeral. I was so excited that I'd get to pretend to be Elektra at the graveside with the raining and the cask lowering that I was completely crushed when the casket didn't get lowered =(

Why does Hollywood lie to us about such silly things?

[katepwa.livejournal.com]

Hollywood is very weird about anything to do with religious observance. Movies have lots of birth and marriage and death, because those are dramatic, but any scene with a baptism or wedding or funeral would lead you to believe that everyone in North America is urban, and Roman Catholic or Jewish. Protestants and rural folk need not apply.

[lebannen.livejournal.com]

I've only been to rural funeral services, in the UK not the US, and there they do lower the casket by hand (you wouldn't be able to get a big digger/forklift/etc into one of those graveyards, for a start). At one, due to a shortage of people deemed suitable to assist (it's apparently usually a thing for male non-immediate relatives, and I am a girl but at least wasn't wearing a skirt or silly shoes) I got asked to help by taking the boards out from under the coffin before they lowered it. This turns out to be slight tricky, as what you don't really want to do (apart from dropping them down the hole, of course) is lift them too high so that they bang on the underside of the coffin, making it sound as though Aunt Ermintrude is making a final bid for freedom. Oops.

[marymac.livejournal.com]

And they do it whether it's really a good idea or not - what with the incredibly wet summer, when we buried my aunt the ground on the uphill side was not at all up to three grown men standing on it and my dad nearly went after her. He says it's very hard to maintain an appropriately dignified demeanour while lowering your sister to her eternal rest when the funeral director has a death grip on the back of your jacket to stop you from falling in the grave and you have a growing conviction that the deceased is laughing her head off somewhere.

[lebannen.livejournal.com]

Oh yes, seconded so much. In the case of my aunt everyone involved was very glad that she was a very little old lady, minimising the numbers who had to get anywhere near the edge, and I was taken to one side and told very quietly exactly where it was safest for me to stand.

As it was, her funeral was the one day of the year with snow on the ground (just enough to make a slope into a never-ending series of puddles, with slippery bits lurking for the unwary), and there were many mutterings that she had arranged it all so that she could laugh at us.

[marymac.livejournal.com]

And at least all the fiddling about to get it organised does allow someone to notice that you're putting the last of the great aunts in the wrong grave...

[frogy.livejournal.com]

They lower the casket at Jewish funerals because everyone there is invited to then throw a handful of dirt into the grave as the end of the service.

[mythologian.livejournal.com]

it just struck me how incredibly weird it is that I grew up Jewish, but I've never been to a single Jewish funeral... hmm, guess that's what you get when your family changes religious views every generation or so, thank god we're open minded about it, otherwise we'd never talk to eachother at all.

[kurai-mori.livejournal.com]

Two Thanksgivings ago, my grandma convinced my older cousin and I (we're the only two adult female grandchildren; the rest are boys and/or toddlers) that she needed us to take down and sort/re-pack all of her fancy china/crystal that she got as wedding gifts.
The whole time she told us how many of each thing there was, and kept on repeating things along the lines of "both of you will have to fight over who gets what when I'm gone, but luckily [names of the baby girl cousins] will be too young to get anything nice."
(My cousin and I instantly agreed that splitting everything fifty-fifty would be plenty, because when are we ever going to use ANY demitasse cups, let alone twelve of them?)

[frenchroast.livejournal.com]

LOL, that sounds like the right approach. Even if I could use them, I wouldn't know where to put more dishes--my kitchen is so tiny.

[elf-amazon.livejournal.com]

My husband's grandmother was lowered at the graveside service. It was a sort of hand-crank that they'd set up. (Of course, they hadn't situated it quite right, so the coffin got stuck partway down and there was a lot of men lying on the ground reaching into the grave to get it unstuck, but everyone found it humorous rather than upsetting.) And then the family who didn't immediately leave stayed around to help fill in the hole. It was a sort of respect and closure thing.

But you're right that I don't think it happens often at the service anymore.

[sandrayln.livejournal.com]

I've been to one lower-the-casket.

The rest have been "stick body in hole in vertical wall", because south Louisiana, or "stick body in above-ground tomb on top of the bones of generations of ancestors who are also in the tomb", because south Louisiana.

[(Anonymous)]

My grandfather had his casket lowered slowly by six grim-faced gentlemen slowly shifting what looked like broad ribbon but must have had considerable strength to it.
Everyone's reaction to the whole thing was "don't want that. cremation for me" so I doubt it'll be again. Aways found the whole idea of coffins & embalming unbearaby creapy. Much rather just be wrapped in a sheet and burried in a rose garden. May as well end it all as fertilizer, no? Unfortunately, my family finds THAT creapy. Hey, at least I didn't request fruit trees.

[jedilora.livejournal.com]

Jewish funerals do, because we also bury our dead ourselves. The pile of dirt is next to the grave with a shovel in it, and you're supposed to use the backside of the shovel to scoop at first. I've been told two reasons for this. 1) you demonstrate that you are so addled with grief that you don't know how to use a shovel, or 2) you're letting the deceased know that you don't really want to do this.