omorka | Nov. 3rd, 2003

Nov. 3rd, 2003

I hate flying. It's never been better than mildly uncomfortable for me. The security people at Avocation Airport made me take my shoes off, even though there's no metal at all in those sandals (they fasten by Velcro). I especially hate flying on no notice into the Jackson airport.

Mom picked me up at the airport right on time. We then proceeded to get lost in the parking lot, for which there is absolutely no excuse. Brother #1 couldn't make it home, and was/is apparently feeling very guilty about it. We mostly talked about family stuff on the way home. We didn't arrive until 11:30 pm. The dogs don't recognize me anymore, even though the oldest one really should. Mom put me in Brother #1's room, since he wouldn't be using it. I missed the visitation and the rosary, but that's probably okay, as I wouldn't have been comfortable at the second and wouldn't have known what to say to anyone at the first.

Usually when the family gathers together, it's the B. side that I see. I don't remember having this much of the S. side in one place before. One of my aunts is slowly succumbing to breast cancer, and her voice is very weak. I talked quite a lot to one of my first-cousins-once-removed-in-law about the responsibilities of being the oldest in a generation in a family (I'm my grandmother's oldest grandchild, by three years; Brother #1 is grandchild #2, and the FCORIL's oldest daughter is the eldest on that branch of the family tree, and a year younger than I am) and about what's going to happen to my grandmother's house. It would really be a shame for them to sell it, but my uncle (Dad's oldest younger brother) is the only one in the family who both has the money to keep it up and is close enough to actually do so, and we're not sure yet that he and my aunt She-Who-Gets-Things-Done are willing to take on that extra work and responsibility. The preliminary indications are that they're thinking very hard about it.

The funeral was very, very lovely. They had the casket open before the service started, which I hadn't expected. I don't think I've ever seen so many flowers in one place before. The family seated the lady who has been the cook for the family, and then just for my grandmother, for over 30 years in the rows with the family, which I was extremely grateful about. Mom cantored, and got a lot of compliments later (many of the S. side relatives either hadn't ever heard her sing or hadn't for a long time). Father H. blessed the casket with holy water, oil, and (at the end of the ceremony) incense. Oh, did I mention that the new sanctuary for Dad's church is built in the round, with the altar in the center? And that the ceiling is painted dark blue, with gold eight-pointed stars? And that the baptismal/holy water font is a fountain, set in the west? And the pipe organ is in the east? And that the place is prominently dedicated to Mary, and the Holy Family? My grandmother was blessed with the four elements in a temple to the Queen of Heaven. I was quite pleased, even though I had to do a reading for "almighty God" (yuck) with the other grandchildren present. Father H. sang the Eucharist liturgy; he has a strong tenor voice. I really rather like him. It's always good when the person performing the service knows the deceased well; he used the word "class" about ten times, incorporated some of her favorite phrases ("Always something!"), and read a sort of poem-come-journal-entry of hers about her grandchildren.

The burial itself was at Amiability Cemetery, where the family plot is (and where Papa Coach B. was buried this summer; unfortunately, I couldn't find out where his grave was to visit it); it was a crisp autumn afternoon, with a golden slant of sun on golden trees. Very pretty. I was a little annoyed that some of the chairs were set on top of my grandfather's grave, but that was the funeral home's fault; one of my uncles kicked back the astroturf they'd placed over his headstone. I asked Brother #2 and Sister if they'd ever been to the plot, and they indicated that they hadn't. (Brother #1's serious girlfriend did come to the funeral, sort of in his stead; Brother #2 and Dad invited her to sit with the family, which I suspect means they expect her to become my sister-in-law at some point in the future.) I took a few pictures of the burial site.

The reception was rather strange. Of course, it being a proper Southern funeral, everyone in the whole world brought food. I'm not sure how many people were actually there, but my grandmother's sole surviving brother was there (most of the family hadn't expected him to come, as his health isn't that great). Dad seemed alternately the proper good host (after all, he's the head of the family now) and really, really down, although I don't think he cried. While he was in good host mode, he told a lot of stories about his father, my grandfather who killed himself when I was six (I and Brother #1 are the only ones of his grandchildren who were old enough to remember him; one more was an infant and the fourth was in utero). He doesn't normally do that.

No one actually talked much about the inheritance, although my two aunts-by-blood on that side said my grandmother had made a list of what objects were supposed to go to whom, and one of my uncles mentioned that if there was anything I really wanted, I should probably mention it to someone before I left (I didn't, as I thought it might be tacky). The trust fund that my grandfather set up for her is just going to be split six ways and given to the children; no one seems to know exactly how much money that is, especially since her funeral and final medical expenses will be paid out of it, but it's still going to be substantial (like, each share is likely to be at least a couple of orders of magnitude more than my entire net worth at the moment). Then there's her estate proper, which is also substantial, but no one knows exactly how much of it is in the house (and the other, smaller property) and how much of it is in other stuff. (The house is stuffed to the gills with furniture and other things that are quite valuable to the sorts of people who care about antiques. I admit I'm not really concerned about the furniture, but there's quite a bit of silver and a few pieces of jewelry that I would rather not be sold off, all other things being equal. This is, after all, a woman who had so much class, she put her silverplate in the dishwasher because it would be too much trouble for the cook to wash it by hand.) I know I'm in the will, but it'll probably be months before that's even read, if what I gathered is correct, and I think I only get stuff, not money (which is fine with me).

Mom and Sister had already scheduled a visit to a college in Missouri, which they didn't want to cancel, so they left early Sunday morning. Dad and Brother #2 and I went over to my grandmother's house a little later to see the family before everyone left; before we left, Dad gave me some bolo ties of my other grandfather's (Mom's dad) to give to the Spouse, as he's the closest relative who actually ever wears bolo ties. (One of them has an owl on it; the Spouse insists that one's mine.) Some friends of Brother #2's showed up before he did, fellow alums of the Academy; I chatted with them a bit about what things have changed - and which are still the same. Dad pontificated about the Myers-Briggs and Enneagram personality sorters for a couple of hours; I ended up helping my aunts get lunch ready, for which I was roundly complimented, I guess because I don't do that sort of domestic thing very often.

Dad drove me down to Jackson. Major weirdness (about which more later). We got there a little early, which was a good thing, because it turns out I forgot to take the bartender's tool out of my backpack before I left. They dug through my entire backpack to find it, and then asked me whether I wanted to relinquish it or try and get it put in my checked baggage. I chose the second option, and the clerk at the counter said she'd try and catch the bag before it went on the plane. I told the security people that they'd caught something that the folks at Avocation hadn't; I think they took that as a compliment (I hope they did, at least). The flight was full but uneventful. I could smell Houston when we landed. I was extremely glad to be home - and very tired; I didn't go in to work today (I had already made plans not to; don't worry, the kids are okay).

I should probably call home tomorrow and make sure everything's okay. I should also probably e-mail Brother #1.