You could see Grandma’s box; it was so weird25 VIPs have spoken »
It’s been a long time time since we’ve cracked open Cardiogirl’s teen journal, hasn’t it? Yes, it has. It looks like it’s been almost six months.
So I was 16 when I wrote this. I was also blunt and tactless, it seems.
May 11, 1984
They called about the flowers today and we said, “It’s too late honey, he’s six feet under.” Everyone at the funeral was as prissy as can be, I just sat around and stared at Grandpa.
I guess he looked pretty good. Better than the last time I saw him.
We even got to see where he was buried; the hole was dug and you could see Grandma’s box on the side and the ends of the other boxes. It was weird. Then Mom went to see Grandpa and Grandma H.
Man you know you’re desperate when you’re sitting home on a Friday night watching “Walt Disney” with the folks. Oh well.
Four more days of Driver’s Ed. It’s about time.
Well I can’t think of anything else to say so bye.
Deciphering this journal entry is like working an Agatha Christie murder. I can see Hercule Poirot pacing across the room with his hands clasped behind his back.
“We can surmise that the request to send flowers was denied as the funeral had already taken place. The family member in question must have been the paternal grandfather as the writer mentions the casket of the deceased’s wife and the fact that the maternal grandparents are also deceased.”
Alrighty, let’s try to fill in the blanks.
I have no idea who called about the flowers but it’s pretty clear that those blooms were earmarked for my grandpa’s funeral. And the funeral must have taken place by the time that call came in. Clearly this was my paternal grandfather, as Poirot figured out above.
The only thing I remember about the funeral is seeing him in the casket at the funeral home. That’s a weird sight, no matter who it is; it’s just so unnatural. Anyway, I remember walking up to the casket and staring at him. I think it was my dad who said, “He looks good, doesn’t he?”
I did not think he looked good but that seems to be the go-to statement at a funeral. I suppose many people die after an illness so by comparison they look better than they did. Plus they’re not wearing an old flannel robe and they usually don’t have bed head.
Side note: Mr. C knows the two requests I have for my funeral — should I precede him. My middle initial must not appear on my grave stone and the undertaker must paint my lips with Wet n’ Wild 511B.
When a chick is driving the casket it seems like they use a light-colored pink or peach on the lips. I didn’t wear that color in life and I’m not wearing it in death. Period.
I haven’t attended a grave-side funeral in quite a while; do they still offer that as an option? I find that unsettling. I know, intellectually, that the boxes are side by side underground but it’s still too much information for me to handle while attending a funeral. I want to drop the person off at the cemetery, say goodbye and then see sod the next time I visit.
So I stand by my previous statement: “… You could see Grandma’s box on the side and the ends of the other boxes. It was weird.”
Once again, I always enjoy the abrupt change of topic in these entries. Grandpa’s dead, it sucks watching Walt Disney on a Friday night and it’s about time Driver’s Ed is almost over. Yeah.