Memories
Posted by Rebecca Thu, 24 Jul 2008 00:50:00 GMT
It’s interesting how, in the face of death, people immediately forget the flaws of the person they are mourning.
Of course no one says bad things at a funeral. This is not what I mean.
I heard a lot of people say glorious things about my grandmother after the funeral. I heard people talk about how they must have inherited this trait or that trait from her, and that’s how they ended up being the incredibly fabulous people they are.
Maybe my perspective is different because I’m so young. Maybe it’s because when I was born, my grandmother was already old and crotchetiness was beginning to set in.
I don’t remember a free spirit. I don’t remember a patient woman who only spoke kind words. I don’t remember anything like that because I never saw her demonstrate any of those characteristics.
I heard words spoken in anger. I heard words spoken in jealousy and resentment. I heard conspiracy theories.
This doesn’t mean I didn’t and don’t love my grandmother.
She was an inspiration to me. She had a fantastic imagination and held fast to her opinions. She was the world’s greatest canasta player, and had a wonderfully adorable laugh and smile. She was also incredibly difficult to be around most of the time. At least, that’s how I always felt about her.
I wonder if people only say nice things because they feel stifled by the cloud of death and don’t feel free to say anything different. Or maybe it’s because they want to romanticize the person they lost and paint them in false hues of honor and glory.
I personally would rather remember the person as a human.
The scowl and the smile.
The wisdom and the stupidity.
The love and the hatred.
It’s all beautiful.
It’s all worth remembering.
Speaking of memories, with the exception of the service itself, the time I spent with my family in Arkansas was wonderful. While we laughed and cried over old memories, we created new ones.
Here are some that are and will remain very special to me.
1) Seeing my mother’s tears after she viewed my grandmother’s body. I didn’t know she loved her mother-in-law so much.
2) Seeing my aunt laugh hard and smile a lot. She is more herself now than she has been in recent years and I’m glad to see that retirement is bringing good to her life.
3) Hanging out with my uncle. He’s uber sweet and hilarious, and somehow fits perfectly into our bizarre family. He also has excellent taste in music which made the trip up to Arkansas volumes less somber than it would have been without his tunes.
4) Celebrating the potential of the fresh life that exists within my niece and nephew. Children really bring hope into the world. They lighten the air and make it more breathable.
5) Spending a lot of time with my long-lost cousin who lives twenty minutes away from me but who I never get to see because we both are members of the same family and must stick the family policy of never seeing other family members unless it’s absolutely necessary. It was good to ride back to Austin with him and get to know him better as a human with a heart. He’s forever been that fun cousin but seeing a teeny bit of his emotional side was incredible. I was impressed. I feel like we bonded. I don’t know how he feels. He is, after all, a man.
6) Learning things about my grandmother that I never knew. Like how she was a writer. Really? I never knew this? How did that happen? Oh and like how in the 1940s she flew airplanes. How frikkin’ cool is that? Or like how as a young girl, she roamed the hills and mountains of west Texas on a horse. I never knew she had a horse. I thought she hated animals. Or like how my grandfather sang “Goodnight Irene” to her every night, because her name was Irene.
Memories can be painful and pleasant, but in the end I really think even the bad ones are beautiful. There’s a certain something in the difficulty of the human experience that doesn’t compare to anything else. Maybe it’s because during the difficult times we find out who we really are.
Gma was awesome. She contributed to the creation of an awesome, weird, obnoxious, quirky bizarre family that I’m incredibly glad I’m a part of. I don’t fit in anywhere else on earth, but I will always fit in with my family. It’s a good thing to remember.
