I refrained from writing this article before the holidays because I didn't want to be such a downer. There are very few things stranger than having to attend funerals around Christmastime.
I had previously written about the Chruddy Christmas I experienced in 1979. I left out the part in which my family had to attend the funeral of one of Dad's cousins. This was the same cousin Mom, Loyd and I had stayed with in Albuquerque, NM in the summer of 1971 before we flew to meet Dad in Portland, OR. She had shot herself in the head around Albuquerque a few days before Christmas. Supposedly, she had just broken up with her boyfriend, and had taken some drugs and drank alcohol. I never really got the full story. I only remember meeting her that one time, but I had met her parents on several occasions.
The funeral was held in Truth or Consequences, NM, where her parents lived. This would be the first time I attended the funeral of someone I barely knew. We went to the church and gathered with the family members outside in the lobby. Everyone seemed rather calm and no one was crying. Right before the funeral began, we all walked into the temple and sat in the middle section. There were a lot of other people seated in the outer sections. I remember feeling that the other people were looking at us and thinking, "Oh, those are her family members. They're the ones who knew her the best. They must be really torn up about this." I didn't like that people I didn't know were possibly thinking that about me when they probably knew her better that I ever would.
At the end of the service, the casket was taken back to the lobby and opened up. Some of the other family members had seen the body in the funeral parlor and commented about how they could see the black marks from the gunpowder on the side of her face. When I walked past the casket, I didn't see any black marks, but it was apparent that they had put on a great deal of make-up to cover that up. Before the funeral, I saw a Christmas card from years earlier that she, her husband at the time and their two daughters appeared on. I remembered this card because it was done like a postcard with a photo of the family on it. The two girls and the ex-husband were at the services. The girls had been living with the mother when she committed suicide. Now, they were going to have to go live with her father. I remember one of the family members saying something to the effect that it was going to be difficult for the father to adjust to having to raise the two girls by himself.
I also remember the funeral procession. It's the first time I'd ever have to go on the highway to get to the gravesite. I felt that the people behind caught behind the procession on the highway were getting mad because they were trying to get home for Christmas Eve and we were clogging up the main thoroughfare.
I would get to experience that again four years later in December of 1983. That woman's father passed away of natural causes right before Christmas. Unlike his daughter, I actually remember him very well as they had come over to our house a few times. I didn't mind being considered part of the family this time. My father and I made the trip. Mom and Loyd didn't come with us. I remember having to plan out the trip as the route to Truth or Consequences. We had to go through Alamogordo. I had hoped by some chance, we would run into Loz while we were there. I was still rather hung up on her at the time.
The service was held at the same church. Dad and I were pallbearers. This was the first time I had gotten to be a pallbearer. There were six of us and we got to ride in a limo from the church to the gravesite, stalling the same highway. I didn't really know the other four guys. Since we didn't drive to the gravesite, Dad and I hitched a ride back in the limo to get our car at the church. I recall that it was rather sunny and warm most of the day, but as soon as the graveside services were over, it started getting cloudy and snowed. Afterward, we drove back and stopped in Alamogordo for ice cream. I still did not run into Loz.
One of the things I recalled about the service was that when the obituary was read, they mentioned that one of his survivors was his mother-in-law. This was my Great-Grandmother Owd, who lived in Grady, NM, close to Grandma Ogolon, her daughter. After Dad and I got home that night, we found out that Great-Grandmother Owd had died. The services would take place the day after Christmas.
So, a little background on my great-grandmother: I never got to know her very well. Dad would take us to her house in Grady every once in awhile. She never really seemed that happy to see her great-grandchildren. Anytime we did go to see her, we were usually only there for about 15 minutes. I remember the old-timey feel of her living room, as if she hadn't moved a piece of furniture or a picture in the last 30 years. I also don't recall going anywhere in her house, except for the living room. That means I never even went to the bathroom there.
After she passed away, Dad explained that she was a very mean and bitter old woman who coerced everyone to do things her way. Once, the merchantile owner in Grady didn't have enough money to cash her Social Security check, so she made him drive to Clovis to cash it. He had to close his store to do that. Dad used to talk about how his father complained that she picked the one in-law she hated the most to live close to.
My father and I were also pallbearers for this funeral. There was snow on the ground from Christmas. After the service, we went out to the gravesite and the wind suddenly started blowing. It was bitter cold. I was wearing a suit, but no warm jacket, so I started shivering. The preacher just kept going and going. Mom came up and held me to give me a little warmth. Dad commented that Great-Grandma Owd went to her grave making everyone feel miserable.
I'm lucky that I've never had another holiday season interrupted by a funeral since.
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