formerly a fearless temp

Just returned from my friend's grandmother's funeral, which was nice, but depressing. I've recently discovered my mortality, I think -- when I was in high school, I went to several wakes and a couple funerals and they never really bothered me. Yesterday at the wake I thought I was going to pass out. I mean, who thought it was a good idea to put a dead body in the middle of the room so that people can mill about and try not to stare at it? It really freaked me out. Thank God I stayed conscious. I have decided that, when I die, I do not want a wake. Or, if I have a wake, the casket should be closed.

Just an FYI.

So, the funeral was nice. The priest was kind of old and I was half-afraid he was going to keel over in the middle of the service, but he made it to the end. My friend gave a really lovely eulogy, very touching and funny. The funeral and the wake were held at the nursing home where she had lived the last few years, which I thought in turn creepy (after all, most of the other residents know what their next stop is and I wouldn't want to shove it in their face), and logical, since most of her friends live there and some would be too infirm to travel to a church away from the home. So I guess it worked out.

I ran in approximately twenty seconds before the service began (what would it feel like, I often wonder, to not be frantically rushing places? what would it be like to always be early? I wonder), and ended up sitting among the nursing home's residents. I volunteered in high school calling bingo in a nursing home, and I recognized a lot of the same behavior (lots of hollering about it being cold, some really touching signs of friendship). The sign of peace portion of the mass was particularly funny, as several old ladies got up and scurried around, trying to find their friends ("Where's Helen? I've gotta find Helen!") to share the sign with. We used to do that in high school, and it was funny to see these senior citizens engaged in the same behavior. Also reminiscent of high school were the nuns scattered around, though the ones at the funeral wore habits, unlike the ones I had in high school. The shoes were the same, though, in form if not in color. I think there are special Nun Shoe Stores somewhere, because they certainly have a distinctive air. Perhaps they order them direct from the Vatican. Regardless, they looked quite comfy.

One of the lighter moments of the funeral was when the woman sitting next to me, who was very nice, shifted in her chair, leaned over, and let out this massive fart for all to hear. It caught me off-guard so much that I almost laughed! Really, it must be nice to finally get to that age where you just don't care anymore, and can just let it all out.

Anyway, I'm off to think less about my mortality and more about lunch.