i seem to write what i know better than what i dont. i changed names because i dont know if i have the right to use anyone's real names
My father's mother's side of the family is collected here in this room. The same room where my father's father's family collected a few years earlier. Both of my grandparents burying their mothdrs. Great-grandmothers that were refered to, by my cousins, as 'Grandma with the white hair' and "Grandma with the wrinkles'. Today we bury Grandma with the wrinkles, the one I remember best from my childhood.
Looking around the room at the men in my family you can almost tell what kind of people we are. My grandfather is wearing a suit coat, but upon closer inspection the shoulders bear the light brown-ish hanger marks of an item of clothing that spends most of it's life in a closet. My father is wearing black pants and a button up shirt with the same hanger markings. He looks uncomfortable out of his usual fannel, ripped jeans, and work boots. Or maybe I am so unaccustomed to seeing him this way that I feel uncomfortable for him in these clothes. Both of my uncles look like bikers trying not to look like bikers. There are only a few men in the room look like they dress up often. Most of them are the men I don't recognize but, for some strange reason, one of them is my brother.
Dress pants and shirt, even a tie. He shaved and he made his hair sit down and behave. His giant feet decked out in shiny black shoes. Nowhere to be seen are his t-shirts with rude sayings. Though, still he looks like that is the way he should be dressed all the time. Must be something about his personality. He's got a salesman personality at times.
My grandmother has four brothers. "All criminals" she has claimed on several occasions. I know John is here today, but my grandmother's family is hard to recognize. I think her side of the family tends to stay out of her business unlike my grandfather's family. I know his sisters better than I know my Grandmother's brothers, and at his mother's funeral years ago, I recognized most everyone there. Today, I seem to know only my immediate family.
Great Grandma with the wrinkles is being buried in her bathrobe. It was the only thing her daughter could find that was close to the dress she requested. She had let her hair grow long in the last few years and she is very pretty. She is surrounded by bing-o memorabilia and other odds and ends from her life. One thing that catches my eye is the eagle feather lying against her arm.
My father's older sister, Lois tells me that Paul placed it there. Paul is her boyfriend. A native american from New Mexico, who spends most of his time in Alaska catching salmon to feed us girls. He put it there because it symbolizes bravery. He says my grandma was brave.
Lois is preening over her own grandaughters. The baby, who seems cute upon first look, but when forced to smile suddenly takes on the look of a devil. Rae, a heartbreaker for sure. The toddler who should be a lot younger, I'm getting too old too fast, Nora.
The toddler knows me vaugly. I was there after she was born - ten weeks premature. I was around from time to time as she grew up. I fed her a bottle once at a party. Her mother, Melody, refers to me as 'Aunt' when I am around even though we are in fact second cousins.
Nora needs to use the bathroom. She is currently being potty trained. Melody tells us a story. Nora walked into the living room where Melody was playing with Rae and said: "Mommy, I burped!" Melody told Nora to say 'excuse me' which she did, and promptly left the room. A little while later Melody began to smell dirty diaper. When asked if she went potty in her pants Nora replied: "Yeah, mommy, I burped."
Melody is pregnant again, with a child that, again, she hopes is a boy. She's also holding Rae so I offer to take Nora to the bathroom. Nora holds takes my hand and I lead her down the hall to the bathroom listening to her toddler talk.
In the bathroom I boost her up onto the seat and hold on to her so she wont fall in like Melody asked me too. Then I don't know what else to do. A woman comes in who I know is some distant family member. I look at her and ask: "Is there an on button for this thing?" She laughes and goes into a stall of her own. Nora climbs down off the seat and flushes the toilet.
We head back to her mom, who promptly asks "Did you go Nora?" Nora nods 'yes' and I tell Melody 'no'.
"She got up there, she sat for a minute, she wiped and flushed... but she didnt actually go.
It's time to head to the cemetary and the cars begin to line up. I am riding with my cousin, Lois's second daugher, Rachel. I drove myself here but I don't want to drive to the cemetary by myself. Neither does she.
Rachel and I have just recently moved out of an apartment that we shared and this is the first time we've been together really since moving out. We talk a bit, wonder why we are supposed to have our brights on, but mostly she just drives and I look out the window.
The babies play in the grass as Lois circles the assembled party with a plastic container of little blue bingo chips. Everyone takes a few, including the babies, with little question of thier meaning. A bing-o lover to the end, my grandma. The chips are small, clear blue plastic with a metal ring around the outside. I am wearing a skirt with no pockets and flip-flops. I slip one down the waistband of my skirt. It's held there by the elastic against my hip.
I listen calmly as the man recites parts of the bible, talks about my grandmother, refers to her as Amelia. I try not to notice the pile of dirt hiding benieth the garishly green fake grass off to the right of her coffin. They don't want us to see the dirt. Don't want to remind us that someone is being buried here today. Maybe they should change the color of that fake grass then.
When he finishes speaking we say goodbye. Slowly we file by and throw in our chips, whispering bingo as we pass.
Lois dissapears to find our other Great Grandmother's grave. I stand around talking to my family about things. I play with the babies while we wait to head out to lunch.
Lois comes back as people are starting to head out. She points out the big tree next to our other grandma's grave so we know where we can find it. She tells us that the coffee cup she left behind the day of the funeral is still there, only now it is hung from a stuby branch of the tree. I learn later that her dad put it up there for her when she wasn't around.
It's going to be a while until I attend another one of these. I am relieved, but at the same time sad. Our family used to be a lot closer than it is now, I hardly see my cousins or my aunts and uncles anymore.
Every time I pass the cemetary the two women are buried in, I send out a little thought to them. I never know what to say when I go to grave sites, so I don't go often, but I hope these little thoughts make up for that.
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A wicked Cajun Fairy named Robes Pierre entered the impenetrable Magical doll land of Sha Bebe. Queen Faustina, the ruler of the doll land, thought she had destroyed him, but he's back! Will the doll land survive his evil ways?
