Okay, so. I just read a guest post over at Yeah. Good Times. that reminded me of my Grandmother's funeral.
Part of my snark comes from my less than stellar childhood. My Dad was basically a selfish dick and my Mom did what she could but she had her own baggage to carry so we foundered along as best we could but the cracks were HUGE.
Anyways, about 7 years ago, my MeeMaw passed away. (My people are from East Texas. MeeMaws are real, not just a product of Chuck Lorre's Imagination.) TWH & I loaded up the kids and drove to Texas for the funeral. I think it was Texas. I'm the worst passenger EV-ER.
We were standing around at the pre-funeral, socially awkward, thingie where I was completely overwhelmed by seeing family I hadn't seen in close to 20 years when my wayward father comes up to us with a tall blonde woman in tow. He had left my stepmother about a year or so before (after 17 years) and moved off to Ohio or somedamnwhere. We make our niceties and introductions and then it happened...
Tall blonde woman looks at TB and exclaims "Oh my Gosh!! Look how big you've gotten!! I remember seeing pictures of you when you were BORN!!" Did I mention TB was SIX?? What. The. Motherfucking. Hell?!?! I just stood there gaping and trying to do the simple math. The penny dropped for TWH far sooner than it did for me. This wonderful man put his hand in the small of my back, guided me away, and said to That Man and his Tramp, "We have to go over here, now" while giving That Man a Death Glare. The rest of the funeral was a blur. I remember standing in a corner with TWH in front of me telling me to calm down as I gasped for air like I'd been sucker punched. I remember making small talk with relatives I adored and had missed terribly. I remember weeping for both the loss of my MeeMaw and my own hurt and confusion during the service. I remember the graveside service was hot & sunny. I remember practically running for the car after it was all over in an attempt to get away from That Man. I had no words. I had too many words. Most of them profane. I couldn't talk to him.
I could, however, talk to my Mom. I called her sputtering and babbling. She told me something that didn't really come as a surprise. "Honey, she's been around your whole life. She's not new. She's just new to you."
Oh. Uuuuuhhhhh... Well HELL!!
I tell this story, aloud, to people sometimes. I tell it with humor. Sort of a "You know you're at a Redneck Funeral when..." kind of thing. I can laugh at it now. I could laugh at it just a few weeks after it happened.
Maybe that's my superpower. Being able to laugh at things. Maybe I'm just more in need of therapy than I think.
Who the fuck knows??
However, after reading Elder Daughter's post. I know things could have been so much worse.