Never Been a Sinner, I Never Sinned
August 8, 2010 § 3 Comments
This is how my family does it.
Many years ago, my mother told me on Tuesday, my grandmother looked her in the eye and said, half sternly and half pleadingly, “Don’t bury me in blue.”
My Mom at that point was likely still living in the denial where most of us exist — that we’ll never have to bury our parents, so she replied, “But, why, Mom?”
Gram’s response? “I look dead in blue.”
And while I don’t have a grand summation of her death or her funeral this week, I have this much: When gram said that, she was thinking ahead.
She left us with a funny story to tell at the viewing, and again at the dinner. And again here. And every time I tell it or hear it, my eyes and my mouth are in direct opposition, for now, but I know — and I think she knew — that there would come a day when all the parts of my face would agree that memories of her are meant for smiling only.
My parents had put together collages of photos for the viewing. Gram as a baby, her wedding day, Christmases and Easters and confirmations. (And one photo of her with my Dad, in which he was wearing white cutoff jean shorts: Amazing.) We gathered in the funeral home lobby and around her casket — how pretty she was, how we remembered that day, that year, that visit.
Among the photos was a gift certificate. It blows my mind to think about how long she must’ve held on to this, and it blows my mind that at a young age, I was so right about something.