A Death in the Family and Other Tragicomedies

I have a black eye. I hit myself in the face with my vibrator.

Feel free to stop reading now if you need to, but I thought it was kind of funny. See, the vibrator is attached to a cord which is attached to a battery base, which is kind of weighty. And I thought that the whole thing was all tangled up in the blankets on my bed. So I grabbed the vibrating bit and yanked on it really hard (there’s just really no good way to phrase that), but it turns out that it wasn’t tangled up, it was lying on top. So the base flew up and clocked me under my right eye. I rolled around with my hands on my face cursing and laughing for a good five minutes. It really hurt. But I give you permission to laugh.

Oh, and my grandmother died. Wait, can I write about this in the same space as the black eye story? Granmama would categorically not approve. But lord help us we were on Death Watch for about eight years and said our goodbyes to her long before she forgot who we were in the nursing home, so while it’s a sad subject, it’s one of those sad-but-relieved deaths. The kind where after the funeral you go back to someone’s house and eat bar-b-cue and pass around pictures and apologize to Kenny Ray for not having thought to pick up any beer. (Again with the disapproval.)

The good news is, well, first and foremost that she’s dead because she never wanted to lose her mind and end up fetal in a home. So believe me, she’s thrilled right now, wherever she is. And the other good news is that she died eating. Like Mama Cass. Which makes it kind of a rock and roll death. I’m just saying, when I’m 84, I think passing away peacefully between bites of pudding sounds like a good way to go. My mom left a message on my answering machine informing me. Nice. There was only one day of visitation and there was a surprisingly large crowd, considering she outlived everyone in her family. A few people brought food but my aunt and I went to Krystal to supplement. We’re klassy like that (“that’s our Krystal story, what’s yours!?”). We got one of those cases of 16 burgers and six orders of fries, and I was the only one who wanted a coke so I got one. After we ordered, my aunt said, “we got all that food and one coke. You reckon they’re gonna think that’s all for you?” Considering my weight, I guess it’s a fair assumption. And it still makes me laugh out loud when I think about it.

I am happy to report to those of you who read about my Aint Rene’s visitation that my grandmother’s was much classier. The only quasi-weird thing that was sent to the funeral home was a porcelain church surrounded by fake flowers that played Amazing Grace when you wound it up. My aunt said her co-workers sent it because they know she kills plants.

The funeral was just a graveside service the next morning which was very cold and windy. At the service I read the lyrics to a Merle Haggard song…. just kidding. But that would have been funny wouldn’t it? It was actually a song called “These Are the Women We Come From” and it was lovely. Followed by some distant cousin who brought along a poem she wanted to read. Which I thought was a little presumptuous, but my poem kicked her poem’s ass, so it was okay. Remember that SNL sketch where Madeliene Kahn sang a mother’s day song that went, “M is for the many things she gave me, O is for the other things she gave me, T is for the thousands of things she gave me, H is for the hundreds of things she gave me…”? Her poem was kind of along those lines. But that song was pretty funny, I’ll have to remember that… for later. Anyway, the funeral finished without incident… aaaand then my crazy aunt (not the Krystal one) who is in her 60s and has known this was coming for a good 10 years, got up and jogged over to the casket and as well as threw herself on it sobbing “mama… maaamaaaaa…” like a little kid does in the store when you won’t let her have a toy and she’s all, “pleeeeease…. but I neeeheeheeeeed iiiiiiiit….” The hilarious thing is that A) the Mexicans had already started to move in to lower the casket so they kind of looked at each other and backed away and B) nobody in my family made a move. We all just kind of sat there watching her like we were both in shock at her behavior and very entertained at the same time. I half expected Granmama to reach an arm out of the casket and slap her and tell her to get a’hold of herself. Eventually, Krystal aunt got up and pulled her off the casket and helped her walk it off and the mexicans moved in, no doubt shaking their heads about that crazy ass gringa.

So now I have no grandparents left. It was a good run. I had them during my formative years and all the major holidays of my childhood. I kind of miss them now and it makes me feel a little bit old. er. But it’s taught me something.

That when I die, I don’t want my photo montage DVD the funeral home provides to be set to inspirational music. I’m thinking the soundtrack to Family Guy or some pissed off Ani DiFranco feminist music.