Ever since we returned from the funeral last night I've been replaying certain parts in my mind. Oh, nothing major and not re-living it all... just thinking about it as I go about my day making pies, ripping up bread for stuffing, etc. You know, things you can do while your mind wanders.
Because we had to make the long drive yesterday morning, we arrived at my Grandmothers home about an hour before the funeral was start. As we walked up the drive my youngest brother was standing out on the porch. He remarked it was packed in there and he was getting ready to head over to the church to get away from people. Ah yes... just what I expected. And I braced myself for the onslaught of bodies I knew would be on the other side of the door.
Grandma's house is quite small, a typical 2 bedroom bungalow style but within it's walls it currently held approximately 20 people in the tiny living room
alone, with another 20 or so at the church already and more scattered throughout the kitchen, garage, bedrooms, den and hallways. Small children not included in the count - of which there were many. It was standing room only with half in their winter coats, getting ready to leave for the church. 15 different conversations were going on and voices rose while the children ran inbetween legs and squealed.
I quickly smiled and called out 'hello!' to an Aunt from California I hadn't seen in perhaps 8 or 9 years. A quick hug and then another for my Uncle while waving to my SIL and calling out hello to my cousin over by the couch... another Aunt cornered me immediately and after a quick hug she got to the point - complaining that Grandma had requested Ava Maria and the organist didn't know that he would play it and the choir didn't know it, so would I do a solo?
Caught off guard, my mouth was open to think of an excuse but I was saved by yet another relative calling out to me from across the room as they saw my face. I waved and yelled out my hello as I ducked away from my Aunt and muttering hello's I made my way down the hall to the kitchen. I saw my Uncle Otho sitting in a kitchen chair. His health is not good and although he has lost about 50 pounds he is still hovering right around 350 pounds and has been in the hospital many times over the past year. "Uncle Otho!" I called and smiled and went to give him a hug. He looked a little confused but said hello and smiled... my Dad, standing behind me said, "That's Meritt, Otho.
Meritt!" "Ooooh." Surprised I kept smiling, but for the first time in 37 years my Uncle did not know me? His health must be bad. He is only 63 years old.
BabyGirl and I were both waiting for the bathroom and the 3 minutes I had been in the house seemed more like 3 hours. Suddenly the bathroom opened up. We both made a beeline for it and decided to share, lest someone else grab the facilities in between our use.
We immediately left for the church and walking in I was immediately cornered by yet another Aunt. "Has anyone talked to you about the Ava Maria!?" she asked. Inwardly I groaned. I had been town just 12 minutes and so far everyone was on warp speed. I begged off by telling her I was sure I couldn't make it through without sobbing. There was no way I could do it. As I was explaining this to her my eyes were looking past her shoulder to where my Grandmother lay in her casket at the front of the church.
The funeral, burial and luncheon transpired quickly without barely time to breathe. But this story isn't really about those. It's actually about how
fast all this happened once we got into town and how I didn't really have time to sit and talk to any of the Aunts and Uncles at length, nor my parents, and how before I knew it everyone was starting to leave.
As I walked around the house I noted cupboards were empty, rooms were missing a few things. The furniture, pictures, refrigerator, microwave, etc. that remained all had pieces of paper with names written on them.
What's left in Grandmother's basementThe 7 kids of my Grandmother had gone through the house and put their names on things they wanted claim to. Barely anything remained that wasn't marked with a name label. I made my way downstairs where it was blessedly quiet. Only two small children ran through the rooms and 1 other adult cousin of mine. I noted a table with garage sale style junk on it, but little else was left. It had been picked clean I suppose.
While I was walking around and remembering the moments from my own childhood of playing ring-around-the-rosey, hide-n-seek and ghost-in-the-graveyard on the spot where I stood one of my Aunts came down.
"I think some of the Grandkids are upstairs putting their names on things, if there is anything you want..."
"If there is anything even left..." I muttered.
My mother came downstairs and cornered me and started to vent her frustrations. "If there's anything you want you better grab it. Aunt Lobelia is up there having her girls go through everything! Everything! All Grandma's jewelry even! Left and right, left and right! Pawing through it all!"
She lowered her voice and continued, even though I didn't ask to hear...
"Oh, how emotions are running high. Your Aunt Lobelia is ready to blow up. She already has 'had it out' a few times already and about attacked Aunt SnowWhite twice! Aunt Bernice is on the edge of having it out with Aunt Lollypop and your Uncle Otho, well! He keeps trying to take everything that isn't nailed down! When your Dad and I walked in on Sunday he was emptying out the cupboards and going through the drawers. Even took the plastic wrap and the aluminum foil! I told him, we still have to
live here this week! We
need these things!"
Aluminum foil? Aunts almost attacking each other?
Egads.
The shock of grandmothers death was lessening and the true, very different personalities of each of the 7 adult kids were coming out after being hidden for a few days under the stress of funeral planning and such. Suddenly I was very
very glad we didn't come up the night before and only arrived in time for the funeral. I missed the drama and if I was careful, I could continue to miss it. That was fine and dandy with me!
My Aunt Lobelia indeed had ransacked everything. There is always one in every family. She walks around with a chip on her shoulder and a black cloud over her head. Imaginary slights causing her dramatic exits and months of silence while she licks her imaginary wounds. I noticed earlier in the day she was tight lipped and was speaking to no one but her daughters. At the church she and her extended family were in the last of the 15 pews reserved for family. Suddenly she was raising her voice, barging up the center of the church aisle and tossing her jacket over an empty front pew on the other side while proclaiming she was going to sit
right there! Right up there! Front and center! Why did her family have to sit in the back? They weren't going to be sitting back in the sticks while everyone else sat up front! They should be treated better than that!Well, she was just 2 pews back from where I sat, and like I said, all 15 pews were reserved for family. There were 40 more behind her for the public but somehow in her mind she was slighted. I approached my cousin and quietly whispered that there was plenty of room in our families pew next to my daughter... and that I didn't want her mother to be angry. My cousin, used to her mothers rants and imagined 'black sheep' status just smiled and assured me it didn't matter where they sat. They were fine.
This same Aunt that was ransacking the jewelry with her three daughters because she was sure they wouldn't get anything. This same Aunt that snuck into my Great Aunt house immediately after she died and stole things out of the cupboard like appliances she wanted and small furniture because she thought it unfair they were going to auction everything off, even to family.
I walked up the stairs and took a deep breath.
Pilfering the aluminum foil and sneaking into the bedroom to go through Grandmothers jewelry?
I didn't need any of this. Instead I took my camera and took pictures of the things I wanted to remember. I wandered outside and took pictures where I knew my feet would never step again while my mind replayed scenes from my childhood in my brain.
We left about 20 minutes later. The only thing I took, something I believe, in its own way was meant just for me. For while I was in the basement looking at the almost nothing that left in empty rooms (see the photo above) I spied a rag tag box with remnants of fabric and other trash in it from Grandma's old sewing, next to the empty boxes in the photo above. I reached in and moved things around just to see what was being tossed. I saw a bit of paper. I reached in and my heart was glad... It looked like it was two old sewing patterns! I had hoped I would find grandma's sewing patterns, but sadly, they had all been taken by my Aunt Lobelia and Uncle Otho. Here, apparently were two they missed!
I pulled them out and quietly laughed to myself. For in my hand I held perhaps the only two patterns that would have meant anything to
me personally. You see, the patterns were two outfits my Grandmother made for me when I was 3 years old. The little yellow sun dress on the left and the blue outfit on the right. I wore the yellow dress when I graduated from head start preschool when I turned 4. I believe the little blue outfit is in a box in the basement somewhere.
When I left Grandma's yesterday afternoon I may not have had any of her jewelry or dishes... if those things are meant to be, they will find their way to me. But these two patterns? Priceless.
Labels: Inlaws and Outlaws, rambling