Quote:
Originally posted by bold_n_brazen
When my grandmother died, I helped my mom make arrangements. In the funeral home, they led us into the room full o'coffins, and allowed us a few moments along to choose one. I touched one (with a lovely pink silk lining) and the lid fell off. Mom and I wound up laughing hysterically for several moments, saying things like "Well, we broke it... I guess we bought it."
There are times when you have to laugh, else you'd be crushed by the depth of what you feel.
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Our family originates from the Rio Grande Valley town of Mercedes, and my grandfather was to be buried in the family plot there. The day before the funeral we drove down to Harlingon and checked into a local motel. We'd stayed at the same motel two weeks before, for my great-grandmother's funeral, so the usual touring around that we do in the Valley to check up on how much things had changed since the last time we were there was already taken care of. My great-aunts, my uncles, my aunt, and some of my cousins were staying at the same hotel.
The next morning, we stopped by the funeral home to make sure that the arrangements were properly made. The funeral was to start at the gravesite at 3:00, and so we called the rest of the family and arranged to meet at a restaurant in Reynosa for lunch, a larger border town on the other side of Harlingon. It was about 11:00 when we got there, and we were the only people in this massive restaurant. I think that there were about 30 or so of us at this long, long table in the restaurant. My dad started ordering cabrito. My uncle started ordering margaritas. The kids started drinking limonadas. A food orgy ensued. More food and more drink. Everyone started toasting my grandfather. Some mariachis showed up. At some point, someone looked at their watch, and we realized we only had twenty mintues to get to the funeral. A small level of pandemonium ensued at the inevitable arguing over the check, the trying to get out of the restaurant and find our cars, the counting of people trying to make sure that we had everyone. We started back towards the border and ran into a massive traffic jam. My dad bribed traffic cops right and left to get us closer to the border; my cousin, in the Suburban behind us, bribed the same cops. I think they even bribed the border patrol, at least on the Mexican side. It seemed like it took forever to get across that damned border. We kept on reassuring each other that we were the family, and they couldn't possibly start the funeral without us.
We raced as fast as we could to the cemetary, probably a good 15 to 20 minutes late. As we predicted, they hadn't started the funeral without us. It was mid-January, but it was a beautiful day. My great-grandmother's funeral two weeks before had been cold and dreary, but this was almost a warm day and the sun was shining brightly. There was a trailer home just on the other side of the fence from the cemetary, and throughout the funeral, norteņo music blasted from an old radio out of the trailer. It got louder and softer depending on the breeze. Two butterflies were playing right above the coffin throughout the entire ceremony, distracting me and my cousin and making us giggle. The local American Legion chapter got wind that one of their own had fallen, and at the end of the ceremony they blasted rifles into the air three times, scaring the shit out of my family. We're very lucky no one fell down at that point. The party lasted another couple of hours, with more booze and food at a cousin's house. We invited the American Legion people to come along.
My grandfather would have wanted us drunk and late and laughing at his funeral. I think he would have risen from the grave, swiped the rifles from the American Legion dudes, and shot us all if we were somber and maudlin and appropriate.
