Went To A Funeral This Week

[Fierce Critter]

Just typing some thoughts for the hell of it.

My uncle Chester - my mother's oldest sister's husband - died last weekend.

They had visitation on Tuesday, and funeral on Wednesday.

I didn't bring it up because, well, as I told my husband, he was an abusive son of a bitch. We're talking a 94 year old man or so. Polish Catholic. He was never real pleasant to be around. Christmas time, as we'd do the usual "visit all my mother's side of the family house by house the week after Christmas," Aunt Mary would serve us cold, tasty ham sandwiches, and home-made tiny little cream puffs that I still miss (Aunt Mary passed on about 10 years ago). My cousin Camille, who was the inspiration for myself being named that, and who is much older than me (my mother's side of the family is decades older than my dad's side), was always so bright, pixy-ish and fun to visit with.

But Uncle Chester just sat in his chair, watched TV, ate ever-present pistachios from a bowl and ignored us.

My mother's youngest sister, Aunt Rosie, died about 16 years ago or so. One of my favorite stories was of the time my Aunt Mary was so distraught over something, she had locked herself in a bathroom and was threatening to do herself in. My mother's family all lived together in odd situations over the years, so I'm not quite clear who was living with who, whose house it was, etc. But Aunt Rosie was ironing. And when Uncle Chester stood there and did nothing, Aunt Rosie brandished the hot iron in his face and told him, "if you don't go take care of her, I'm going to smash this right in your face." He did what he was told.

A lot of conversation was had at the funeral. Everybody had a story about what an asshole Uncle Chester was. I wasn't there for the visitation on Tuesday. But my sister Sue said that as she was viewing the body with cousin Camille, Camille, who had been taking care of him for the past 2 decades at least (she never married and always took excellent care of her parents), said, "he was a miserable cuss, but I'm gonna miss him."

It's odd. So many of my parent's friends, relatives, and acquaintances have died. My dad is 81. My mother, 82. They're in pretty good health for their ages, often mistaken for being in their 60's. But as each of these funerals happen, it's fascinating to sit back and see how the different generations handle different situations.

This was the first funeral I really wasn't moved to tears. In general, I'm overly empathic. I go to funerals - especially Catholic/Polish ones that are RIFE with ritual and sadistic in their multiple forms of continuous, nearly day-long reminders of loss - and I cry uncontrollably. I have been embarassed, feeling like I'm more making a spectacle of myself than truly grieving. But at Uncle Chester's funeral, the only thing that brought me to tears was when, at the church just prior to starting the service, they had Camille come up, tuck him in, and close the casket. Man,I had to start really, seriously analyzing the architecture of the church, which is usually the only way I can get my emotions under control. I knew she had said the "miserable cuss" thing, and that reminded me of how alone she is now. Her oldest brother died from a car accident about a decade and a half ago. And then her last living brother, my godfather, died of cancer last year. Even though Uncle Chester was a testy, cranky, unappreciative pain in the ass - he was her last living direct relative. She has nieces, nephews, her brother's widow, and lots of grand nieces and nephews who love her and live close. But still, you know. Miserable cuss or not, she loved him.

Uncle Chester served in WWII. And he could make a mean kielbasa. The funeral home has a website, and you can post memorials there. So I left a note saying that my prayers and thoughts went out to Camille & the rest of the family. And that surely Uncle Chester was making kielbasa for the Heavenly Hosts, and swapping war stories over a bowl of pistachios with the Arch Angels. That was a big hit, and I was pleased to see Camille laughing out loud over it.

Sigh. I hope there's not another funeral in the family for a very, very long time.

[GothicRavenGoddess (3)]

my great grand father was in WWII... i don't know what he did, but he was there.... so yeah.. i hope that you don't see another funeral for a very long time, either... i have lost a whole generation, in the last 8 years... so yeah.... Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter suck for me... hope things go better for you

*hugs*

[Winter Steele]

I lost my grandmother Swiosh just before mothers day. I went to my great uncle Arts funeral he was a War Vet too and the funeral was on Veterans day. I hope nonone loses any loved ones or friends anytime soon.

[FarrIL]

One of the most painful funerals I've been to was November last year. I went to TWO funerals in November, but the most painful one wasnt my great aunt Lee dying. A few weeks after her funeral, I had to drive to Rochester Hills to stare at a blue marble urn that contained the ashes of my high school friend Allie. She was going to turn 21.... about a week after I would. She was born with Cystic Fibrosis.... and 20 years later, it finally took her life.

I say "finally" because I remember her really struggling with it for the remaining 2 years of our high school 'careers'. She'd catch colds easily, miss several days of school at a time.

She knew at a very young age that she wouldnt grow old. So when she was a kid, she'd sit in the bath tub and wait til she was pruney and then get out, saying "I'm old now". Her coughing, how much it took out of her.

I know I cried a lot when my Great grandpa died. Papa died of Emphysema. All throughout my childhood, as friendly as he was, so caring and loving to his great-grandchildren, his grandchildren and his children..... I'll always remember his "weird" breathing. I remember one time, when I was too little to understand what Emphysema was.... I remember being in the kitchen when Papa was using a breathalizer.... or one of those machines that helps you breath.

I know I cried a lot then, but I dont think I ever cried so much as when I did at Allie's funeral.

Knowing how hard she fought, til the bitter end, the only comforting thought myself and our friends had was that she didnt have to fight any longer. She was a true warrior. She fought for at least 10 extra years.... because children born with CF are lucky to see their teen years. When her and I met in 9th grade and she told me that she had CF.... she was already living off of at least 2 years borrowed time. 14 years old....

It really hurt seeing her urn there with a portrait of her smiling, sitting next to the table. There wasnt a body, just an urn full of ashes.

[Fierce Critter]

Cremation, when there are friends & family left behind to mourn, has always bothered me.

But that's another thread, methinks.