Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Still no word from my "dream job" of flipping burgers. Is it any surprise? I also had a phone interview for a bank teller position--sounds awesome, doesn't it? Oh, did I mention the bank is located in Wal-Mart? Yeah, so yet another AWESOME prospect, I know, but I am trying hard not to look a gift-horse in the mouth. My life is such a shambles that it would be a blessing to work in Wal-Mart, how sad is that? Regardless, they haven't called for a 2nd interview, either, so there's no point in getting my hopes up. Edited: I stand corrected, they called while I was still composing this. I go in on Thursday. Huzzah!
Rusty is handling the loss of Grandpa pretty well. We got home on Friday night because I had to work on Saturday, and we had an extended weekend together, which was very nice.
Thursday night's viewing was tense--he still wasn't really on speaking terms with his brother, and the kids have never been to a funeral or anything like it, really, so I was concerned about how they'd take it. They were fortunate to not have had a close relationship with Grandpa; he'd been too ill to socialize by the time we started visiting, and he spent most of his time in the bedroom napping. So he was familiar, but not beloved, if you will, so the experience wasn't as emotionally difficult as it could have been. They were pretty wound up from the car trip by the time we got there, and I was worried I'd be dealing with a flock of children concocting "touch the dead body" games and screaming about zombies before the night was over.
Sea Hag had thrown a monkey wrench into the works by proclaiming her intention of bringing H to the viewing--Rusty had been putting off making specific plans because he couldn't get a straight answer from her about whether or not he could bring her. She essentially decided that H was very sensitive and may need Mommy there with her, and therefore she was going to "surprise" Rusty by just showing up. Surprise? Seriously, "Surprise" and "Funeral" should never be used in the same sentence. Honestly, woman. So, on the one hand, we're very glad that she allowed H to attend the family function, and shocked that she'd put herself in the line of fire, so to speak, but on the other hand, aggravated by her blatant attempt to once again control the situation and keep everyone waiting on her. She showed up about 5 minutes after Grandma had left the chapel--luckily, it takes Grandma more than 5 minutes to get into the car, so they met her in the parking lot. They stayed about 5 minutes and immediately turned around and made the 2 1/2 hour drive back home. She managed to avoid speaking a single word to me or looking directly in my eyes once again, but I am amused by how lovingly she was welcomed by his family. She simply doesn't understand the concept of non-biological relationships. She doesn't understand how these people could possibly give a damn about her now that she's not married to Rusty anymore, as if everything gets chucked in the bin just because they called it quits. His family doesn't operate that way, they hold onto the past quite a bit and still accept her just as much as they did 10 years ago, which is way more than she deserves, and rather than rejecting it, she ought to be damned well grateful.
While she was making the family rounds, I kept myself busy talking with the kids. My youngest niece was acting a little bored, so I showed her the program for the viewing and said, "Look, it says here that Grandpa was born in 1922. Can you imagine what it must have been like that long ago?" She is 6, and said with complete conviction, "Everything was black and white, and everyone wore dresses and tuxedoes."
The funeral was in 2 parts the following day. The chapel service was quick and simple. Their oldest son (#3 of 5, the older 2 having already died) got up to speak, and was sobbing before he could finish the first sentence. You simply can't witness something like that and not feel it, too, but it was good to finally see someone actually cry--until then, everyone had on their brave faces. By the time the service was over, I was about to pee my pants, so I grabbed my son's hand (who said he had to go, too), and we snuck out the back to the bathroom. When we returned, everyone was just finishing filing out, and we met up with DD, who was with her cousins and their mom, all four of them bawling like crazy. She was really embarrassed that it affected her so strongly, I guess she wasn't expecting to cry since he wasn't HER grandpa (technically, he was her Step-Great-Grandpa). Since Rusty was a pall bearer, we sat in the car and waited for him, and I told her I understood--it's hard for anyone to be around so much grief and sadness and not feel it, too. It was probably good for her to have a good reason to cry like that, anyway.
The procession made it's way out to the veteran's memorial cemetary---sssllllooooowwwwllyy, of course, and we were pleasantly surprised to learn that the VFW was there for another service and offered to perform the 21 gun salute that is normally only performed for active duty soldiers. So he was able to have the Honor Guard and 21 gun salute services there before it was all finally done. I had never seen those services in person before, and just like in the movies, I couldn't sit through it without getting choked up. It's just difficult to sit there and watch the flag be presented to his widow, then the shells from the guns, etc., all while she just sits there helplessly.
We finally went back to Grandmas to have some snacks off all the deli trays that had been delivered by well-wishers and just basically sit around and keep her company for a while. There were snags and brief outbursts that were completely unnecessary but understandable under such conditions, but all in all, we made it through without any scars. The whole experience was a pretty effective reality check, a nice reminder that as bad as things are, there's always worse.
Rusty is handling the loss of Grandpa pretty well. We got home on Friday night because I had to work on Saturday, and we had an extended weekend together, which was very nice.
Thursday night's viewing was tense--he still wasn't really on speaking terms with his brother, and the kids have never been to a funeral or anything like it, really, so I was concerned about how they'd take it. They were fortunate to not have had a close relationship with Grandpa; he'd been too ill to socialize by the time we started visiting, and he spent most of his time in the bedroom napping. So he was familiar, but not beloved, if you will, so the experience wasn't as emotionally difficult as it could have been. They were pretty wound up from the car trip by the time we got there, and I was worried I'd be dealing with a flock of children concocting "touch the dead body" games and screaming about zombies before the night was over.
Sea Hag had thrown a monkey wrench into the works by proclaiming her intention of bringing H to the viewing--Rusty had been putting off making specific plans because he couldn't get a straight answer from her about whether or not he could bring her. She essentially decided that H was very sensitive and may need Mommy there with her, and therefore she was going to "surprise" Rusty by just showing up. Surprise? Seriously, "Surprise" and "Funeral" should never be used in the same sentence. Honestly, woman. So, on the one hand, we're very glad that she allowed H to attend the family function, and shocked that she'd put herself in the line of fire, so to speak, but on the other hand, aggravated by her blatant attempt to once again control the situation and keep everyone waiting on her. She showed up about 5 minutes after Grandma had left the chapel--luckily, it takes Grandma more than 5 minutes to get into the car, so they met her in the parking lot. They stayed about 5 minutes and immediately turned around and made the 2 1/2 hour drive back home. She managed to avoid speaking a single word to me or looking directly in my eyes once again, but I am amused by how lovingly she was welcomed by his family. She simply doesn't understand the concept of non-biological relationships. She doesn't understand how these people could possibly give a damn about her now that she's not married to Rusty anymore, as if everything gets chucked in the bin just because they called it quits. His family doesn't operate that way, they hold onto the past quite a bit and still accept her just as much as they did 10 years ago, which is way more than she deserves, and rather than rejecting it, she ought to be damned well grateful.
While she was making the family rounds, I kept myself busy talking with the kids. My youngest niece was acting a little bored, so I showed her the program for the viewing and said, "Look, it says here that Grandpa was born in 1922. Can you imagine what it must have been like that long ago?" She is 6, and said with complete conviction, "Everything was black and white, and everyone wore dresses and tuxedoes."
The funeral was in 2 parts the following day. The chapel service was quick and simple. Their oldest son (#3 of 5, the older 2 having already died) got up to speak, and was sobbing before he could finish the first sentence. You simply can't witness something like that and not feel it, too, but it was good to finally see someone actually cry--until then, everyone had on their brave faces. By the time the service was over, I was about to pee my pants, so I grabbed my son's hand (who said he had to go, too), and we snuck out the back to the bathroom. When we returned, everyone was just finishing filing out, and we met up with DD, who was with her cousins and their mom, all four of them bawling like crazy. She was really embarrassed that it affected her so strongly, I guess she wasn't expecting to cry since he wasn't HER grandpa (technically, he was her Step-Great-Grandpa). Since Rusty was a pall bearer, we sat in the car and waited for him, and I told her I understood--it's hard for anyone to be around so much grief and sadness and not feel it, too. It was probably good for her to have a good reason to cry like that, anyway.
The procession made it's way out to the veteran's memorial cemetary---sssllllooooowwwwllyy, of course, and we were pleasantly surprised to learn that the VFW was there for another service and offered to perform the 21 gun salute that is normally only performed for active duty soldiers. So he was able to have the Honor Guard and 21 gun salute services there before it was all finally done. I had never seen those services in person before, and just like in the movies, I couldn't sit through it without getting choked up. It's just difficult to sit there and watch the flag be presented to his widow, then the shells from the guns, etc., all while she just sits there helplessly.
We finally went back to Grandmas to have some snacks off all the deli trays that had been delivered by well-wishers and just basically sit around and keep her company for a while. There were snags and brief outbursts that were completely unnecessary but understandable under such conditions, but all in all, we made it through without any scars. The whole experience was a pretty effective reality check, a nice reminder that as bad as things are, there's always worse.
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