2001-06-12 - 9:42 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Do-Re-Mi", from "The Sound of Music". Specifically the part at the end where all the pieces come together.

Well.

It feels like I've been gone for weeks. I'm tired.

The funeral was fine, as funerals go. You know how funerals are. Awkward, stressful, tearful, depressing. I hate them. I'm still a big fan of the Irish wake idea, where you sit around drinking and sharing memories of the person. A celebration of their life rather than dwelling on their death, you know?

The one thing that nearly ruined Pop-Pop's funeral was an appalling excuse for a priest. He was rambling and mumbling his way through the funeral Mass, and as Poindexter put it, talked as though he were "John Miller reading the baseball disclaimer". The priest had absolutely no sense of timing or cadence and during the prayer-response didn't have an appropriate pause, so nobody knew that it was time to say the response. It was unbelievable. Poindexter and I were exchanging horrified glances. I don't know who let that guy become a priest, much less perform a funeral Mass.

My father saved the day with a little speech at the end. He talked about being raised in a household where his parents truly loved and respected each other, and having a father who taught him to respect people, and how Pop-Pop was so happy to be living where he was and truly appreciated all the help and companionship everyone gave him.

Also, amazingly enough, my mother didn't seem to notice how awful the priest was. Perhaps she has different standards.

A few random notes:

- All my mom's sisters were there, Stacey, Kelsey, and Lee, plus Alicia and Mike and the kids and Alicia's parents. It's one of those weird facts of life that that people can always make time for funerals but it's hard to get together for a happy occasion. Aunt Kay told my mother that she was to "plan" a "funeral" sometime in the future, and everyone would be there. That's an idea.

- Cousin Willy showed up again. He was at Grammom's funeral too (Pop-Pop's wife). Willy is Grammom's cousin, which makes him my first cousin twice removed. He is 96 years old and still driving, and full of stories. He is a riot. My god, I hope I'm as sprightly as he is when I get old. He went up and down the stairs in the restaurant like they were nothing.

- I planted the begonias I got for Pop-Pop last week at Grammom's grave. He always used to plant them for her, so it seemed appropriate.

So, now I am still a little raw, but I have to say that missing Pop-Pop as I do now is easier than it was last week. That was just so completely horrible, all that worrying and crying and fear that he ws suffering, that this almost seems easy in comparison. Especially since, for me, when someone dies I have the constant feeling like they're just not in the room. People don't END just because they die! The feeling that you got from knowing them, and the memories, are a way of keeping them with me. It sounds corny but it's true. I remember all my grandparents so clearly, still! And we watched the video on Sunday from my other grandfather's 70th birthday, and I saw all four of them as I want to remember them: healthy, happy, and laughing. It made me feel lucky just that I had known them and loved them, and happy that I got to spend as much time with them as I did.

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Well, tomorrow I'll be back to my regularly scheduled nonsense. Thanks again to all of you who sent your condolences -- it was so very much appreciated.

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