On going home

Tonight I’m going to the store to stock up on treats and delectables so that I’ll be ready for my trip.  I already have books, my iPod, and when my laptop when I want to watch movies.  I’m goign to scour the crib for a toasty blanket.  The only thing missing from this trip will be my Grams’ smiles and stories.  Lots of people have a laugh to remember their loved ones by, but my Foxy wasn’t a laugher.  She had this sly smile that spoke of a secret; she knew all the answers, and she was just waiting for you to catch up.

I’m going to the funeral, but I’ve already decided that I’m going straight from there to the repast, and I’ll help set up (to the best of my ability).  I hate the burial site scene.  You’re standing right next to the chamber or hole, and you know the grounds keepers are just waiting for you to be out of eye shot before the close your loved one away.  That darkness turns my stomach.  It’s hard for me to do funerals as it is, but that part, I’ll have to do without.  As much as I don’t want to, I did decide that I would “view” her body.  I know my family isn’t lying to me, but part of me doesn’t believe it.  It’s not real to me, and as much as I don’t want to do so, I have to.

I also hate when people call death a “homegoing.”  Her home was 3941 Prentiss.  Her home was at the head of our table at family dinners and the comfiest chair at cookouts.  Her home contained stencils, and bendable rings with fake rubies and emeralds, barrel o’ monkeys and puppets.  Her home was where she poured us water, and prune juice and made us bran muffins because we were never to young to be “regular.”  God knows that, so I don’t buy that he “called her home.”  Death is not a divine plan, and no one can convince me of that.  It’s a thing that happens, but to me, it’s innately abnormal.  Our body is made to renew itself constantly, then all of a sudden, it doesn’t?  Our reaction to death is pain and violent crying.  There’s nothing natural about it.  She’s not going home.  She left home.  That’s why we’re so sad and broken behind it.  I’m going to miss that lady, and her brilliant mind, her faith, her kindness.

And her smile.  I think I’ll miss that most.

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3 responses to “On going home

  1. OMG…I’m was looking at the picture and I’m saying to myself ” I know this lady”….your grandmother’s three blocks from my house.

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