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Published: October 11th 2006
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So, I went through a lot of my life occasionally bumping into relatives, usually the old scary type at weddings. They were almost always on my dad's side of the family, at that. This last minute family reunion, meloncholy as it was being my Great Aunt Mary's funeral, brought me back to my mom's side of the family. I almost wasn't going to go. I did it as a favor to my mom who really needed me to go with her and drive her up to Madison, Connecticut.
Arriving, we entered into Great Aunt Mary's house and all of the son's daughters and grandchildren were already there. Most of them I don't remember at all and they all seemed kind of the old scary type until all my second cousins appeared from the background. Noelle, my gosh. Last time I saw her we were about 7 years old, she was a stock car racer. Chris, I've never met, but neither had his gay mother who gave him up when she came out of the closet. Those two were meeting for the first time this family reunion. Patrick, reminds me so much of my friend Grant from home, it's rediculous. All of the sudden, I hear "ASHLEY?? IS THAT YOU?? OH MY GOSH!?" My second cousin Peter jumps through everyone and gives me a huge tall, fit, 28-year-old, handsome, fohawk hug. I could not have been more taken aback. We used to chase each other through the sprinklers and through the neighborhood at Thanksgiving (I related this and the following story to him promply). Every once in a while, I wouldn't be able to find him until I popped out from behind a tree and saw him laying on his back in someone's yard. I'd run up and tell 'im to get up, but he wouldn't move, he'd just lay there. Wouldn't move. Even when I kicked 'im and yelled at 'im. At first, I'd get scared and get too close and he'd punch me or something silly like that. After the 3rd time he did it though, I'd just walk away. Lame. My mom and I, no thanks to traffic, got there kind of late so everyone split shortly after out preemptive reunion. I don't really know the proper usage of the word "preemptive". It just sounded good there.
After a night on the pull out couch with a possesed alarm clock that went off at 6 in the a.m., we all awoke to go to the funeral. It was beautiful. I didn't even know Great Aunt very well, besides the time I we went to her house for Thanksgiving and I watched E.T. for the first time. I was sharing a bed with her and the entire night I was petrified to turn over. She was a heavy breather and I was convinced, CONVINCED, that I was going to turn over and she was going to have turned into E.T. Petrified. So that's the only memory I had of her. We hadn't gone up to Connecticut for Thanksgiving since I was about 8. I also think my mom forgot to pack my gunky (my blanket) at the house and had to turn around to get it. But that's water under the bridge.
So I don't even really remember Great Aunt Mary and yet I'm getting very teary eyed. All I had to see was how she affected those in her life. I heard someone exclaim that he was astonished to see how many people went to her funeral and her grave-side service at her age. Usually it's just the three people who have to be there: minister, funeral service guy, one family member. They were putting out extra rows of chairs half way through the procession and countless high heeled shoes were digging into the ground and sporting events blankets handed out at the graveside service, which was an hour's drive away.
I didn't even know Great Aunt Mary, but when her son, Pidge, got up there to read letters that had been sent to his mother, I think everyone just about lost it. He read a letter his daughter had written to her about memories, things she taught her grandchildren, etc. The kicker came when Kate (his daughter) thanked her grandmother for her father. Wow, I'm about to lose it even now. What continued to get me was when my mother kept adding on her shopping list of a funeral that I was going to have to plan for her. "I don't want to be in a funeral home. Have it outside if it's nice weather. If it's not, in someone's home. The procession should be after, if at all. No open casket..."
Chris was a real hoot. He seemed like such an outstanding citizen. A fireman. A highschool wrestling coach. 20 years old. Just get him away from adults and the guy totally cracks out! N-word this, F that, all the exploitives you could fit in a calm, non aggro sentance. Kinda scary, but he was a good guy at heart. Saw right through that. I think he had some problems meeting his mom for the first time. Man, anyone would. His mom's partner was there too: Gwen. A collecter of all things Coca-Cola. Apparently their home in Florida has over 14,000 Coca-Cola related artifacts. Wow. She was quite the character, but they've been together for 6 years, so I guess it's pretty serious. I just don't see them together. Linday's a shirt bubbly, blonde, outgoing burst of energy. Gwen's a manish large long-haired, poorly dressed blob who collects Coca-Cola. Eh, whatever boats your float, I say.
The drive to the gravesite was interesting. We listened to Sirius radio's comedy station. There was a joke that said "what's worse than going down on your grandmother?.... hitting your head on the coffin on the way up." Really bad timing for a grandmother joke of that sort while we're all on our way to a graveside funeral for a grandmother. The rest was jolly good though. Stopped for some McyD's. After the graveside funeral, we all went back to Mary's brother's house in Westport (very to-do) for linner (lunch/dinner) and chatted it up. Got to know everyone really well. Love 'em. Got a family picture taken. For the first time in my life, I rejoiced in feeling a bit of normalcy. The childhood stories of chasing cousins around the yard, the giant family picture on the front steps with a camera on a timer so the taker has to run into the picture. Not saying I love being different. It's like the question "Are you in a sorority?" I never said "No, I'm independant" cuz that's still affiliating yourself with Greek Life. Not that I was against Greek Life, whatever fancies your tickle, I say. Just wasn't in my spectrum of thought or way of life. Normalcy is the sorority of life.
That night I went back to spend the night with Peter and Patrick's house. Chris was staying there too and we just hung out all evening playing and card games as other people trickled in. Noelle, Chris and I played a fun game called 31, then switched over to Texas Hold 'Em when Patrick and Peter joined in. My first time ever. And I kicked butt. Chris was really good, but it was sooooo sweet to beat him. He'd throw down his cards all confident, then I'd throw down a full house or something and, uh, to see his face. Mhuahahaha.
Then we had a family bonding moment and rented
Thank you for Smoking, which I enjoyed purely becuase it was original. Everything is a remake of a movie, based off a book, a sequal or a prequal. YAWN. This movie, however, was very clever. Bravisimo. Slept on the couch that was too short for me, got a ride back to Mary's house from my cousin once removed who looks like Dharma's Dad from Dharma and Greg, the TV show. Packed up my stuff and hit the road to Boston, Mass to see Mattzee.
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