- May 20th, 2010, 7:47 pm
#40650
My aunt died recently—my mom’s sister. I’m fine. I told my mom "I didn’t feel anything because I never got to know her." Through all the cook-outs, parties, spending the night to be with her children—my cousins—I never got to know her. She spent absolutely zero quality time alone with me.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
At 2 PM we met with family and friends at a relative’s home for food and gathering before my aunt’s wake at 5 PM. People had arrived from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; New Orleans, all over. My question was, “Who Dat?†I didn’t know half of them. Some were a site for sour eyes while some were still strangers even after they introduced themselves and tried to make me remember. “Oh, okay,†I pretended to remember, I lied. During and after the meal I conversed but wished I had brought some cards or some type of board game to liven the atmosphere more. Around 2:50 PM a sudden rain and thunderstorm escaped the heavens. With an extremely loud crack of thunder directly overhead, it was hilarious to see people run from the roofed deck into the house, screaming. I stay on the deck. The gentle, cool breeze felt so good. The thunder was threatning but the down pour was actually relaxing. Not long thereafter the storm, Mom wanted to go home and freshen up before her sister’s wake. We left.
Around 4:30 PM
We met at another relative’s home, the family loaded up the limos, lined up their cars, and my extended family was off to the funeral home chapel to view and remember my aunt. She was dressed in white to match her casket, which was trimmed in a very light shade of pink. Some bodies look like the people are sleeping. She looked dead to me, with that sad sag around the mouth that many dead bodies have, almost like a frown. Some family members touched and kissed her body, then turned around and hugged and kissed her husband and children. Remind me not to sit on the first row at my immediate family member’s funerals. While touching and kissing a dead body may be some people’s way of saying goodbye to the person, which is totally not that person anyway, then to turn around and hug and kiss living people, that totally grosses me out. Be Gone!
After the viewing we were asked to come forward and share our remembrances of her and several did bring amusing stories. The main tie-in was that she loved having get-togethers. She loved bringing people together and showing them a good time. ~Throughout it all, I wondered about the quality time she spent with all the people she’d entertained and did she really get to know any of them. I've always been a deep and sensitive person. I look beyond the sporty clothes, huge bank accounts, the burgers and hot dogs, and the laughter at parties. I look for a spiritual connection to see if the person in question is even trying to meet me in the mind or if they’re only pretending to.~ I wanted to step up to the podium and share the night my parents and I were visiting her and my uncle, and someone got the bright idea to play the Newlywed Game. If you know that game, you know that while there was lots of laughter that night, some of the couples did not go home as happy with each other as they’d arrived. I wanted to share her plans to write a novel. She knew I was working on my first one at the time and she was anxious to get started but had many computer questions. The weekend I was to spend at her house, their computer had to go into the shop. I don’t believe my aunt ever started her book. We never talked about it again because her body went through a terrible time of some days having strength, some days not. I wanted to share other things, but for some strange reason, I didn't get up. Not because I didn't feel worthy or was ashamed. I general love a microphone. I just didn't move. After people had cried, and we watched a beautiful photographic DVD presentation of my aunt’s 50th wedding celebration to her husband - almost making it to her 56th - and after everyone who cared to share, the casket was closed, then family friends and associates were allowed to enter the chapel. The private family viewing was over but the wake was not. Our family had been sitting for a while and there were signs of boredom in the air. We must have waited for what seem like 45 minutes as the others trickled in. Some younger, more distant cousins sitting behind me left and returned with Bojangle’s chicken. I must say, the smell of fried chicken at a wake was quite a change from perfume and flowers. At least the cousins were wearing dressy pants, on their natural waistline. At the end of my row, a cousin was in a playful dispute with a grandson of my deceased aunt, she threatened to tase him. She actually whipped out her taser and clicked it on. Its buzz was low but I’m sure it would have been louder had she actually made contact. I’m sure my tased second cousin would've been louder too. Oh, my. What else was going to happen? This was like a scene from the hilarious 2010 movie “Death at a Funeral.†At least nobody knocked over the casket and sent the body rolling out onto the floor. Geez! Finally, after more words from those outside the family, and two choirs each sang a selection, it was time to go. The beautiful two hour and a half wake had ended.
Monday, May 17, 2010
We loaded into the limos at the same house as before and headed out to my aunt and uncle’s Catholic church for her 12 noon funeral. Once we were seated, my question from the day before, "What else was going to happen," was answered. Who comes out as director of music but the head supervisor over rides at Carowinds, Mr. Erick Massey. I was so shocked my first instinct was to look for my Carowinds name tag and put it on. I’d heard rumors that he had something to do with music, but I didn’t know he was in change of a band and a choir. Such multitalented people I work with. What amazed me was his unspoken language to the musicians. They knew exactly what he wanted through his facial expressions and hand gestures, and they were good too. Mr. Massey can play some mean piano! And talk about swaying to the beat; I honestly didn't know he could move like that! They played and sang many songs that were woven throughout the service. Most of the songs were joyous and were probably the send off my aunt had requested. She had also asked for a closed casket funeral because she didn't want a lot of people looking down on her. Her request was granted.
The priest presiding over the service was new to the church. He didn’t know my aunt and it showed. The guest priest from Baltimore knew my aunt and had spent quality time with her and it showed big time. The church really came to life when he talked about her from his heart and he brought much laughter to a gloomy situation. Instead of following formalities, why don’t churches allow the qualified people who knew the deceased to take charge? It sure wouldn’t be as boring. Soon, it was time to travel to the memorial grounds.
So, what’s the difference between memorial grounds and graveyards? Memorial grounds do not have gravestones, only markers. In the center of the memorial stood a long concrete and marble crypt wall holding bodies on each side. Instead of lowering straps over an opened grave, my aunt’s coffin was placed on a hydraulic lift. After prayers from the new priest, and final farewells from mourners, three burial ground attendants—dressed as if they were working in their own yards—raised the casket with the lift to the already opened compartment of the crypt. Once the casket was slid in they caulked what looked like a thin piece of dark metal to the opening, before the final marble piece was sealed into place. The caulking took a few minutes, so I ventured off to another nearby family burial area, mainly to see one grave marker in particular. Before I start my autobiography, I needed the date of my uncle’s late May death because he was buried that year on the approaching Memorial Day—the same day a disgusting Catholic priest started messing with me when I was only 10 years old; and I wasn't the only child.
After another boy told, a parent phoned it in, but all the Archdiocese of Charlotte did was secretly move the priest to another location and didn’t let anyone know where he was. Some archbishop guy with a giant, pointed hat showed up the following Sunday. His excuse was, “The priest had suddenly been assigned to a new location and won’t be back.†I know why he was really there. He came to see if the church was at peace or in an uproar and was to report it. The church was at peace because only a select few knew what was really going on. The Catholic heads didn’t investigate the charges or look with care upon the shamed family nor even bothered to see if there were others. But they haven’t heard the last of this; I haven’t begun to tell my story yet. If I had told back then, my dad would have beat that priest down in his own brand of justice. Do I pity the Catholic church over all the accusations now being hurled at it for all the sexual abuse cover ups. Absolutely not! I think it’s high time the word broke out. We the people should have told everyone in the church back then. Do I now hate all priest and think of them all as pedophiles. Absolutely not! My beef is with the one who thinks he got away. Since the Archdiocese of Charlotte didn't like talking to the people, it’s time we the victims start talking to the people. If the present Pope is guilty as accused of doing what the Archdiocese of Charlotte did to us, then let the truth be told! I have much more to say about these matters. This episode with that priest is but one bombshell to be dropped in my autobiography.
I guess the bottom line to this whole thread is to focus on your quality time. Can you tell when someone really needs you? Do you supply your children’s food, shelter and clothing needs but continue to neglect to spend time with them and meet them in their minds? When kids come over to spend the night with your kids, are you always in another room sewing, watching TV, etc.? Do you care about anyone other than yourself? This is a heavy thread I know, but try not to have too many people standing in the same shoes I stood in at my aunt’s funeral—having lived around you all their life but never having gotten to know you. It surely is a strange pair of shoes to wear, indeed!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
At 2 PM we met with family and friends at a relative’s home for food and gathering before my aunt’s wake at 5 PM. People had arrived from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; New Orleans, all over. My question was, “Who Dat?†I didn’t know half of them. Some were a site for sour eyes while some were still strangers even after they introduced themselves and tried to make me remember. “Oh, okay,†I pretended to remember, I lied. During and after the meal I conversed but wished I had brought some cards or some type of board game to liven the atmosphere more. Around 2:50 PM a sudden rain and thunderstorm escaped the heavens. With an extremely loud crack of thunder directly overhead, it was hilarious to see people run from the roofed deck into the house, screaming. I stay on the deck. The gentle, cool breeze felt so good. The thunder was threatning but the down pour was actually relaxing. Not long thereafter the storm, Mom wanted to go home and freshen up before her sister’s wake. We left.
Around 4:30 PM
We met at another relative’s home, the family loaded up the limos, lined up their cars, and my extended family was off to the funeral home chapel to view and remember my aunt. She was dressed in white to match her casket, which was trimmed in a very light shade of pink. Some bodies look like the people are sleeping. She looked dead to me, with that sad sag around the mouth that many dead bodies have, almost like a frown. Some family members touched and kissed her body, then turned around and hugged and kissed her husband and children. Remind me not to sit on the first row at my immediate family member’s funerals. While touching and kissing a dead body may be some people’s way of saying goodbye to the person, which is totally not that person anyway, then to turn around and hug and kiss living people, that totally grosses me out. Be Gone!
After the viewing we were asked to come forward and share our remembrances of her and several did bring amusing stories. The main tie-in was that she loved having get-togethers. She loved bringing people together and showing them a good time. ~Throughout it all, I wondered about the quality time she spent with all the people she’d entertained and did she really get to know any of them. I've always been a deep and sensitive person. I look beyond the sporty clothes, huge bank accounts, the burgers and hot dogs, and the laughter at parties. I look for a spiritual connection to see if the person in question is even trying to meet me in the mind or if they’re only pretending to.~ I wanted to step up to the podium and share the night my parents and I were visiting her and my uncle, and someone got the bright idea to play the Newlywed Game. If you know that game, you know that while there was lots of laughter that night, some of the couples did not go home as happy with each other as they’d arrived. I wanted to share her plans to write a novel. She knew I was working on my first one at the time and she was anxious to get started but had many computer questions. The weekend I was to spend at her house, their computer had to go into the shop. I don’t believe my aunt ever started her book. We never talked about it again because her body went through a terrible time of some days having strength, some days not. I wanted to share other things, but for some strange reason, I didn't get up. Not because I didn't feel worthy or was ashamed. I general love a microphone. I just didn't move. After people had cried, and we watched a beautiful photographic DVD presentation of my aunt’s 50th wedding celebration to her husband - almost making it to her 56th - and after everyone who cared to share, the casket was closed, then family friends and associates were allowed to enter the chapel. The private family viewing was over but the wake was not. Our family had been sitting for a while and there were signs of boredom in the air. We must have waited for what seem like 45 minutes as the others trickled in. Some younger, more distant cousins sitting behind me left and returned with Bojangle’s chicken. I must say, the smell of fried chicken at a wake was quite a change from perfume and flowers. At least the cousins were wearing dressy pants, on their natural waistline. At the end of my row, a cousin was in a playful dispute with a grandson of my deceased aunt, she threatened to tase him. She actually whipped out her taser and clicked it on. Its buzz was low but I’m sure it would have been louder had she actually made contact. I’m sure my tased second cousin would've been louder too. Oh, my. What else was going to happen? This was like a scene from the hilarious 2010 movie “Death at a Funeral.†At least nobody knocked over the casket and sent the body rolling out onto the floor. Geez! Finally, after more words from those outside the family, and two choirs each sang a selection, it was time to go. The beautiful two hour and a half wake had ended.
Monday, May 17, 2010
We loaded into the limos at the same house as before and headed out to my aunt and uncle’s Catholic church for her 12 noon funeral. Once we were seated, my question from the day before, "What else was going to happen," was answered. Who comes out as director of music but the head supervisor over rides at Carowinds, Mr. Erick Massey. I was so shocked my first instinct was to look for my Carowinds name tag and put it on. I’d heard rumors that he had something to do with music, but I didn’t know he was in change of a band and a choir. Such multitalented people I work with. What amazed me was his unspoken language to the musicians. They knew exactly what he wanted through his facial expressions and hand gestures, and they were good too. Mr. Massey can play some mean piano! And talk about swaying to the beat; I honestly didn't know he could move like that! They played and sang many songs that were woven throughout the service. Most of the songs were joyous and were probably the send off my aunt had requested. She had also asked for a closed casket funeral because she didn't want a lot of people looking down on her. Her request was granted.
The priest presiding over the service was new to the church. He didn’t know my aunt and it showed. The guest priest from Baltimore knew my aunt and had spent quality time with her and it showed big time. The church really came to life when he talked about her from his heart and he brought much laughter to a gloomy situation. Instead of following formalities, why don’t churches allow the qualified people who knew the deceased to take charge? It sure wouldn’t be as boring. Soon, it was time to travel to the memorial grounds.
So, what’s the difference between memorial grounds and graveyards? Memorial grounds do not have gravestones, only markers. In the center of the memorial stood a long concrete and marble crypt wall holding bodies on each side. Instead of lowering straps over an opened grave, my aunt’s coffin was placed on a hydraulic lift. After prayers from the new priest, and final farewells from mourners, three burial ground attendants—dressed as if they were working in their own yards—raised the casket with the lift to the already opened compartment of the crypt. Once the casket was slid in they caulked what looked like a thin piece of dark metal to the opening, before the final marble piece was sealed into place. The caulking took a few minutes, so I ventured off to another nearby family burial area, mainly to see one grave marker in particular. Before I start my autobiography, I needed the date of my uncle’s late May death because he was buried that year on the approaching Memorial Day—the same day a disgusting Catholic priest started messing with me when I was only 10 years old; and I wasn't the only child.
After another boy told, a parent phoned it in, but all the Archdiocese of Charlotte did was secretly move the priest to another location and didn’t let anyone know where he was. Some archbishop guy with a giant, pointed hat showed up the following Sunday. His excuse was, “The priest had suddenly been assigned to a new location and won’t be back.†I know why he was really there. He came to see if the church was at peace or in an uproar and was to report it. The church was at peace because only a select few knew what was really going on. The Catholic heads didn’t investigate the charges or look with care upon the shamed family nor even bothered to see if there were others. But they haven’t heard the last of this; I haven’t begun to tell my story yet. If I had told back then, my dad would have beat that priest down in his own brand of justice. Do I pity the Catholic church over all the accusations now being hurled at it for all the sexual abuse cover ups. Absolutely not! I think it’s high time the word broke out. We the people should have told everyone in the church back then. Do I now hate all priest and think of them all as pedophiles. Absolutely not! My beef is with the one who thinks he got away. Since the Archdiocese of Charlotte didn't like talking to the people, it’s time we the victims start talking to the people. If the present Pope is guilty as accused of doing what the Archdiocese of Charlotte did to us, then let the truth be told! I have much more to say about these matters. This episode with that priest is but one bombshell to be dropped in my autobiography.
I guess the bottom line to this whole thread is to focus on your quality time. Can you tell when someone really needs you? Do you supply your children’s food, shelter and clothing needs but continue to neglect to spend time with them and meet them in their minds? When kids come over to spend the night with your kids, are you always in another room sewing, watching TV, etc.? Do you care about anyone other than yourself? This is a heavy thread I know, but try not to have too many people standing in the same shoes I stood in at my aunt’s funeral—having lived around you all their life but never having gotten to know you. It surely is a strange pair of shoes to wear, indeed!
Last edited by PhantomCat on May 23rd, 2010, 9:55 pm, edited 3 times in total.
) When my cousin died, it really hurt me, but because I didnt get to see him much it wasnt like the most upsetting. It was very hard on my grandparents as they lived right beside them so they practically raised him and his sister. I didnt even get to go to his funeral because I had just started a new job so I didnt take off to go. That is exactly why I spend as much time with my kids (as you saw today, well one of them) as I can. I try to take my daughter somewhere at least once a week, wether its the park, carowinds, the play place in that plaza fiesta across the street from carowinds, or wherever. My other daughter is in school so I dont get to spend a lot of time with her during the day, so I spend that time bonding with the little one. I spend as much time with the two of them in the afternoons now, especially because I am out of work, trying to start my own business. Cant wait to go spend some time with the rest of my family next week, as I dont know how many more times I will get to see them, especially grandparents. Well, again sorry for your loss even though you didnt know her well, its still family so that really sucks. I