It has now been one month since my sweet Father passed away...I still miss him terribly, but enough time has since passed that I can tell you about our Family Freak Show Funeral...
From the start, it was obvious that my crazy mother had been planning my father's funeral for years. Much like young girls plan their "dream wedding". But who plans a "Dream Funeral"--and for SOMEONE ELSE?! (Is it just me--or is that seriously creepy?! )
The Freak Show proceeded as usual. "Creepy" was quickly replaced by "Crazy" when we arrived at the funeral home. Mother had chosen quite a few old photos for a slide show tribute--which sounds innocent enough, doesn't it? Trouble was, most of the snapshots featured a much younger Mom, smiling and flaunting her cleavage in various bathing suits. (At this point, the Freak Show was starting to look like a Peep Show.) Where was my poor Father in all these photos? Usually somewhere in the background. For the next two hours, the slideshow played on and on...Siobhan blushed, I rolled my eyes, Saphrona snickered, Liam was oblivious, and Eamon the Pervert Mama's Boy beamed with pride. But then, he's "not right" anyway.
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Things were just as strange the following day at the funeral...It began when Mother insisted that we all meet at her house and ride to the funeral together in the funeral home's rented limo. Saphrona dug her heels in and refused to ride in the " Death Car", and a huge fight ensued.
Mother won. Grumbling, Saphrona took an extra muscle relaxer to tide her over, and we dashed through the pouring rain to the car. Which turned out to be a Stretch Limo, causing Saphrona to snort loudly and say "Oh, great! The "death car" is a PARTY CAR!" Elbow in her ribs. "SOMEbody must think we're going to a party--how damn ridiculous can She be?!" Siobhan turned to the window and tried desperately not to laugh; I gave my sister another elbow in her ribs.
Apparently the muscle relaxers heightened Saphrona's sense of awareness, because suddenly she realized Mother had over-booked--there were more Freaks standing around, getting wet in the drive, than there were seats in the car. Hmmm. Now the Freak Show was threatening to turn into a circus--soggy Freaks stuffed in a limo, silly clowns stuffed in a clown car...not much difference, really. (Similar nose, similar clothes.)
We managed to sort out the seating dilemma, putting elderly Uncle William up front with the limo driver. Uncle William is a certified Freak himself; his latest hobby is shuffling around, photographing old tombstones. On the way to the funeral, he turned to the driver and asked, "Go to many cemeteries?" Total silence ensued. (Really, Uncle Will? The guy works for a FUNERAL HOME.)
Miracle of all miracles, we arrived safely and on time--even though the rain was still coming down in torrents. We all managed to wade to the church steps, where we were handed the customary funeral service bulletins...but wait! I couldn't believe my eyes--there on the cover was my parents' Wedding Picture. (My father died--not their marriage. According to Mother, THAT died years ago.) She just HAD to get in the picture, didn't she?! What the hell is it with Mother and photographs?!
The funeral service was short and bitter-sweet.. Mother never cried;. Saphrona, Siobhan, and I did. When the service ended, the Extended Freak Show piled back in the pseudo-clown car for the ride to the grave site. Did I mention it was RAINING?! As we walked across the cemetery, poor Siobhan's heels kept sinking in the mud, causing her to lurch from side to side--like a drunkard on a ship-- grasping at fellow mourners like damp black lifelines. ("Oops! Sorry! Eek! Sorry!") All the while, rain water poured down both our backs from a huge umbrella some old gentleman thoughtfully tried--without success--to hold over our heads.
The wind continued to blow and the rain continued to fall throughout the graveside service. Nonetheless, the military honors were done beautifully--especially the heart-breakingly sweet sound of "Taps" piercing the rain...My father would have loved that..
Finally all the umbrellas turned and started toward the drive. As we sloshed across the cemetery, my mother was heard to complain, "WHY didn't they shoot the guns? I thought they would shoot the guns!!" ( Good thing they didn't. Ol' Eamon is a convicted felon, and he isn't supposed to be near a gun. Ever. Get a grip, Mother, before one of The Freaks goes all "postal" and shoots YOU!!)
And so ended another chapter in the Freak Show annals. Until next time.
