Grandpa Larry's Funeral

I have many subjects floating through my head today. Let's see how many I can get to before I give up and hit bed.

Grandpa Larry's Funeral
Last Thursday, I flew up to New Hampshire. My sis-in-law and her hubby met me and took me to their house to unwind. I adore them. She's a nurse and he's a fireman/EMT, among other things. But I think of them mostly as The Nurse and The FireGuy.

On Friday, we made the 3 hr drive up to Vermont to attend Larry's viewing. He was cremated so there was, thankfully, no casket. Just his ashes, some flowers and a ton of pictures. My mother-in-law was there and doing amazingly well. Larry's brother and sister-in-law were up from Boston. Future ex was there. And then we got there.

Paying respects is never a cake walk to begin with. I walked in wondering just exactly how I was being included or excluded. I was very afraid of those possibilities. I should have known better. Future ex can be a real moron but this event transcends the day to day idiocies. He was gracious and very much like his former self I used to love a lot. My mother-in-law included me in the family pictures and the obit. That last bit floored me. I loved it. It meant so much to me. I was secretly thrilled to see that I was in so many of the pictures up on the mounted collage. The whole extended in-law family was just glad I was there and welcomed me thusly. They rock, those people.

We all went out to a family dinner during a break in the viewing. The Nurse, The FireGuy and I were all included. It wasn't even a question. I love that. The Nurse, while being future ex's sister, is not Larry's daughter. But he always tried to include her and her family in his life. So my mother-in-law introduced her to everyone as her step-daughter. I thought that was really sweet and very cool.

The funeral was Saturday afternoon. The Nurse, The FireGuy and I all decided that Larry would have wanted us to go into Montpelier early and generate the economy. So we did. Apparently, Larry wanted me to buy a really cool silver ring, a cute black short-sleeved baby-doll top and a killer sleeveless multi-colored top that could be a dress for a more daring girl. I was happy to oblige the imaginary posthumous wishes of my father-in-law. Oh yes, he also wanted us to have Ben & Jerry's ice cream but it was just crazy cold and we couldn't bring ourselves to do it.

The funeral was amazing. It was held in the church that I believe they had many of their AA meetings in. It was almost full. I have to tell you that this fact showed just how little I knew my in-laws. I knew they had their friends around town. I knew they knew most everyone. But I hadn't understood the strong bonds they had forged. And the HUGE impact they have had on that town. At the funeral, the family was allowed to step up to a microphone and say a few words. Mother-in-law did, future ex did, Boston Uncle did as did all his kids. And then I did. I may be stepping back a bit into the shadows of being an "ex". But not quietly.

I didn't say half the things I intended. I was able to say how Larry and I had pushed each other's buttons. How he had been a giant pain in my ass (yes, in those words...in a church - but anyone who knew him laughed). And how I had returned the favor. I also mentioned his incredible generosity. How, at one time, he had been my confidant and best friend. And how, in the end, we had one last conversation (timed by God's own hand) to set things right between us. I ended up crying through most of my statement. Yah. That not-pretty crying while I talk thing. Nice. I'm sure it would have made Larry laugh.

But it wasn't so much the family statements that impressed me. After we finished, the pastor opened it up to anyone. And they came. Old timers. A 20-something kid. It spanned the whole age line. Person after person got up and just floored me. They talked about this caring, sensitive, empathetic, gentle bear. Many were AA folks - fellow addicts taking each day at a time. But many had been inspired by someone like Larry getting sober. And that was huge. Larry was a hard-core drinker. An ugly drunk. He got sober after his doctor told him he'd die if he kept it up. One guy said he heard about Larry getting sober and he thought, well, if Larry can do it, I can. Then he went on to say he'd been sober for 25 yrs and Larry had saved his life. Almost every single story had us all cracking up at one point or another. Larry was a character and a very funny guy, amongst all of his other traits.

We heard stories about how this man I thought of as a giant ball of grump would visit someone every day in their store to make sure they were ok. If someone was down, he was there. If someone was worried, lonely, hurting, whatever - Larry was there. I couldn't really reconcile the stories I was hearing with my own personal experiences. But then again...I kind of could.

So it made me think about this: a prophet is never accepted in his own home town. We were his family. We were too close to the baggage, the history, the pain, the ugly. Unfortunately, for some of us, that defined what we knew of Larry, with nicer bits filling the gaps. But to the outsiders in Larry's life, he was able to transcend his uglier start and fulfill his potential as a loving nurturing person. It's tragic that sometimes it's your own family that just can't allow you to move up and over your mistakes.

That funeral was a gift from God. To me, anyway. I was forced to look at Larry in a whole new light. I've been spending many moments since asking God to take away any resentment I had toward the man. To help me to truly and wholly forgive him for the hurts I may perceive he did me. It's a hard thing. I imagine I may have to work a while on this one.

I talked to future ex about this today. He agreed. Funerals trigger that selective memory. As they should. What good does it do anyone to stand around bitching about the dearly departed? We all collectively celebrated the goodness Larry did in his life. And really, celebrated his victory over that dark addiction. But future ex and I are wondering how it will hit the people that felt hurt by Larry. When the selective memory fades and the hurts are still there - how will they wrestle them down? I know I won't wrestle them. I'll keep turning them over to God and asking for forgiveness for my unforgiveness. I'm not sure how future ex will deal with them.

Anyway. Larry was much more amazing than I ever knew. That actually makes me sad. That I missed out on that. It wasn't all my fault. I get that. He really was a pill to me and future ex for years. Even sober, lots of people still screw up with their own families. But I'm just glad to know that he was able to be such an amazing man. And to help so many people. What a gift - to have walked his hell and retain a soft heart for addicts. I personally have very little patience for them. For many reasons. Which is why I'm glad people like Larry and mother-in-law exist. To smack me upside my judgmental head and remind me that addicts deserve love and patience just like any other idiot (include me in that last lot).

It was both nice and annoying to watch future ex get so much support and love from everyone. Any person deserves that kind of unconditional love when they lose a significant loved one. Especially a parent. But the part of me that still struggles against hating him...that part of me rankled at his special treatment. The bitch in me wanted to scream at them all, "What are you coddling this idiot for?! Do you know what he's DONE?!!!!" Fortunately for me, I was raised a smidge better than that. And I pray a lot. I think God will be working on my anger for quite a while yet.

Bottom line: Larry's funeral was truly the way it should be done. With lots of love and lots of laughter.

That's about it. That's all I can write at the moment.

The Funeral

On Tuesday, I took about 4 hrs off from work to attend a neighbor's funeral. Around the corner live a woman, her husband and her sister. I'll call the woman Connecticut Yankee and her sister will be Sweet Sister.

I don't even remember how I met CT Yankee and Sweet Sis. It may have been in my initial pie delivery from my little red wagon in 2005. But meet them I did. And we hit it off immediately. CT Yankee and I very quickly made the New England connection. But then we made the Connecticut connection. I grew up mostly in CT. And I grew up about 20 minutes from where she grew up. Actually, she was born and raised in the next town over - the town in which I had my first job as a prep cook (oh the glamor!). Sweet Sis was incredibly sweet and just a lovely woman so I have gone out of my way to run down the stairs and call out a greeting at the door if I see them walking their dogs.

One time...I think it was in 2006, Sweet Sis was walking her little dog with one of her grand nieces (CT Yankee moved here to be near her daughter & 3 granddaughters). I was on a neighbor's porch when I heard a commotion. I turned around to see Sweet Sis down on the sidewalk and her grand niece trying to help her up. I went running over and asked if I could call an ambulance or go get her sister. She didn't want me to do either. But she was having a hard time getting up. I had always noticed her being a bit unsteady and had incorrectly assumed she was a stroke survivor. She actually had Parkinson's. Anyway, her grand niece and I got her up and she was able to make it home. I never mentioned that again and hoped it hadn't embarrassed her.

On Christmas day, I was in the driveway with Big Sis and Tall Guy saying goodbye. CT Yankee, her hubby and Sweet Sis all came walking by with Christmas cards in hand. They hand delivered one to me and met my Big Sis and Tall Guy. We exchanged pleasantries and I hugged the two sisters. They walked away continuing their walk back home around the block.

A couple of days later, I saw CT Yankee walking the dogs. I ran outside to say hello. When I did, she gave me awful news. It appears that when they had returned to their house on Christmas day, Sweet Sis had a massive stroke. She was taken to a hospital in Austin.

She ended up being paralyzed. She lost sight in one eye and partially in the other. She couldn't speak and they said she never would again. She could hear. But aside from that, she was locked in. Trapped in her own body. It was just too horrible to imagine.

I prayed hard. And I prayed the hard prayers. I asked God to please do what was best for Sweet Sis. And to comfort CT Yankee and her family. I had an idea what the best might be but wasn't sure what God had planned.

Last Friday, I was coming home from a daytime appointment. I saw CT Yankee and her hubby getting in their car. The time of day worried me as I knew they'd normally be with Sweet Sis. I drove over and asked for an update. Hubby had to tell me. CT Yankee couldn't even say it. Sweet Sis had passed about 2 hours earlier. It was painful to hear. But God is good. He didn't let her linger too long.

When I got the email with the date and time of the funeral, there was no doubt in my mind that I'd go. And I'm so glad I went. CT Yankee and Sweet Sis were transplants to Texas like me. They haven't been here all that long so don't have a large network here. CT Yankee has a daughter and her family around the corner. And one son about 90 minutes away. The other children all live in California, I believe. So only the local family was able to come. A coworker of CT Yankee was able to come. And me.

At the viewing, I got to hear stories and watch a DVD of old pictures. I found out that Sweet Sis had never married. Never even dated. She had opted in stead to care for her ailing mother. Later, she cared for another sister that eventually died in her 50s. They had also lost a brother when he was 52. Sweet Sis had spent her life in service of those that she loved the most. It just filled my heart to know that. It made so much sense of the sweet demeanor I had encountered. She was just the most amazingly gentle and loving woman.

I also learned that her unsteadiness had been from Parkinson's, not a stroke. CT Yankee told us all a cute story. Their pug, Max, loved to sit up on Sweet Sis' lap. All 26 pounds of him! Because of her Parkinson's, her hand would shake. Max loved this because he just thought she was always petting him! I just love that story.

CT Yankee also told me that Sweet Sis had indeed told them about her fall and my assisting her. It had meant a great deal to her. I'm glad I was able to do that one small thing for her. She also told me that I had been the last person to hug Sweet Sis. I cannot tell you how wonderful that made me feel. I feel very blessed to know that.

You know, years ago, I had sworn off funerals and the like. I cited some half baked story about how my own father's death had put me off of them. Not really true but most people left me alone when I waved that flag. I just couldn't handle them. I didn't like the morbidity I presumed it all represented. I didn't like to be reminded of death. I didn't like the doom and gloom. What a silly git.

Over the years, I've realized that it ain't about me. I now understand that I am there to pay homage to that person. Not because that person needs it. What do they care? It's for those that remain behind. Those that are missing that person terribly. It's to show the survivors that your loved one MATTERED. Your loved one made a difference in some one's life. Your loved one made this world a little better for being here. I honor the dead to help the living. I actually felt it was my honor to be there for Sweet Sis and her family.

And I'm so glad I got to see that DVD of family pictures. I got to see Sweet Sis as a young woman, smiling and happy. And I honored her family. They are people worth that effort.

I will miss Sweet Sis. I will make sure to watch out for her little sister while she's gone.