On the way home from the funeral, I spent some time thinking about the selfish injustices of my Grandmother's death. No 4-generation pictures, still sad that she couldn't come to the wedding, sad she didn't really meet Dan, sad for the futures in my family we will be unable to share with her, sad that I am without grandparents -- just sad. Yes, it was a life well lived, but one towards the end...I just wonder if her younger self would have been content with.
The ceremony was nice, it thundered when we were at the grave site. Struggling through the mud to get to the blue, plastic tent I found the most unconnected thoughts going through my head -- why are these funeral tents always blue? Are we sitting
on top of Grandpa? Will I ever not think of that house as Grandma's?
Coming back to the house I will likely always think of as Grandma's house I saw that the crocuses and the tulips had begun to send their exploratory green shoots up and out of the earth -- sentinals to see if all was safe. I anted to tell them to be careful, that March always brings more snow, that life isn't fair and it is certainly too cold for them to bloom.
But, as much as my grandma would have hated that she was buried in the rain, I believe that she also would have known that those same rain drops were preparing the way for better things to come. That those flowers she enjoyed needed days of inconvenience to grow and to bloom.
Perhaps it is not so dissimilar to life. The unfairness of life makes way for proven character to net bigger and better results. Life is lived when we clasp on tight to inconveniences: falling in love, a sleeping kitten, labors at work, making time for a friend, smelling the wet earth during a rainy funeral. I can't help but wonder what new life may come from the passing of my grandma -- what will become of my little family? The funeral brought several Boonville ex-patriots and some native daughters together over bread anc cup. While we are an unholy bunch on the best of days, there was something sacred in the celebration of family and shared history.
When I go, I hope it is not convenient -- at least not conventionally. It is easy to gloss over the dark ethos of the deceased -- it is all together convenient to not reconcile yourself to the whole person. I was as gracious as possible to my grandma while still remaining truthful on some points. But for me, be honest about the good and the bad. Let them know Kate had doubts and issues never resolved, I could be selfish and lazy, that I often live in disappointment in myself (and to a lesser extent in others) because I hold myself to standards unattainable.
That I swore too much and often had the humor of an adolescent male. But, that when I loved, I did so unashamed and whole heartedly. That when I laughed, it was for keeps. That there was beauty true in my imperfections. Don't let my disposal be on any convenience - take a vacation and scatter me at home, at water, from the window of a car, in a place I loved and a place I have never been. Keep some of my with you. Let my body finally be free from this world that has chained me for so long. Let me be free. Utterly inconvenient. And as I am played to peace, may you find some of yourself as well. May you find some of that myth within yourself, even in something as mundane as a funeral.
