Funeral at the OK Corral.

10:29 pm, November 4, 2004

Tomorrow really shouldn't be very entertaining, but there is that opportunity.

I'm going into work for a half day tomorrow (you know Leon can't cook without that dough, baby), because I could really use that forty bucks. Damn, when am I gonna get in that higher tax bracket so those tax cuts'll kick in?

Then, it's straight to the funeral. We evidently got some douchebag minister or preacher or whatever. Not really what my grandma would've wanted; not really what my grandfather or their daughter really want either. It's such a fucking racket. This funeral parlor probably has some deal with this dude. He gets 150 clams to read some Psalm or some shit. Listen, we're not a church-goin' folk. This guy doesn't know our family. When he talked to my aunt, he sounded like a true creep. Didn't even offer a "Sorry for your loss" or anything sounding REMOTELY sympathetic. So, he visited with my father and uncle today to get the low down on my family. Yes, I had a holy man in my house. I was creeped out more than you know. I guess they were telling him stories and naming off all the relatives, but of course he wasn't taking any notes or anything. Yeah, we'll see how good his douchebag memory is.

Then, he said it'd be a good idea for the family, whoever wants to go up there, to speak and tell stories and whatnot. Yeah, he's really earning that buck fifty. I've got a few places he can shove that buck fifty, I'll tell you that much. So, my aunt and I agreed to do some speaking among the others in the family. Something short and simple is really turning into a long cry-fest. I wrote out a little something that I'm gonna read off, because winging it just isn't in the cards, ya dig?

Let me break this down. My grandma and grandpa lived in Port Townsend. They bought a five-acre piece of land, I wanna say over a decade ago, but it could've been even longer than that. They lived alone. Now, it's just my Grandpa Harold alone in that house. You know, he's a Taylor, so he's not big on showing emotion. Unlike myself, the Taylor men are generally the stronger, quiet type (at least when not drinking, and my grandpa never touches the stuff). But, I hear he's been prone to intermittent bouts of outstanding grief lately, which is all too understandable. That's gonna be hard. I've never seen him or my father cry once that I can remember.

And, you know, emotions are running high on all fronts. My aunt extended the invite to my mother, who . . . where do I begin? OK, so my parents were married for, I wanna say 20 and a half years. Up until New Years of 2000, and they married, I think, a year before I was born. So, you know, my grandma was there for a big chunk of my mom's life. And, like, when my mom's dad died, my dad's father pretty much told her that he'd always be a father to her. So, you know, there's that whole history. But, you know, after the divorce, all ties were pretty much severed, except for a while there my mom and my aunt were still friendly because they'd been as thick as thieves for as long as my mom was with my dad. But, even there, there was an estrangement since my mom's personality took this strange shift and she sort of phased my aunt out of her life or whatever. So, anyway, my mom was invited, but she sounded QUITE indifferent to the whole situation. Then, my aunt called my mom again tonight to sort of tell her off, and my mom hung up on her!

You know, I'm not about to go taking sides, but if my mom DOES show up, my aunt said she was gonna punch her in the face. There's a twist to this whole story, see. My aunt and my dad's side of the family aren't really on speaking terms either. It's an even longer story, but I'll just leave it that it would take a death by my grandfather to get these people in a room together again. The shitty thing is, she's leaving for South Carolina later next year, where her boyfriend has family (they've been together for a few years, but decided not to get married, so it's not like some fly-by-night thing). So, the only person in this family I actually get along with, the one person I'd take a bullet for above all others, has to move across the country because her brothers and sisters (not by blood, which she's thankful for every day of her life. I always kinda figured I was adopted too, since I'm so different, but no such luck) are assholes.

So, yeah, guess who would seriously consider a relocation to the southeast as well? Man, I tell you what, if I get tired of this scene, she told me I'd have a place there after they get all settled in. That's gonna be tough. Surrounded by all these Taylors with no outlet to vent. Seriously, moving out is a MUST. Moving away from Tacoma is a MUST.

I'm really kind of hoping for a scene to be made tomorrow. Lighten up the mood a bit. I think grandma would've liked that. Probably not, but I sure would

Anyway, I got the what's what on my grandma. Evidently, she was 80 pounds when she went. She couldn't eat anything more than chicken broth, so they had to take her to the hospital. And, when they tried to operate, they stuck some tube down her throat and accidentally jabbed into her liver or something. But, you know, she survived that too, but had complications in the middle of the night and passed that way.

Of course, the family won't stand for it if the hospital tries to (my apologies, Pete) Jew my family out of the money for that, since they're the ones who fucked up. The guy said he'd done it a hundred times and everything. So, we'll see. She held on for over 8 months, though, when the doctors tried to tell us that she had MAYBE a week to live, but might not even make it through the night. I think that's pretty kick ass. It wasn't pleasant, but she held on for as long as she could.

So, tomorrow's the day. Hopefully I'll be able to get some sleep tonight. If you thought the alcohol flowed last weekend, you just wait ...

Current Mood: -- 3 minutes, baby!!!
Current Music: My Morning Jacket - Run Thru