I See Dead People

Okay, this is a rather maudlin blog entry, but I really can't help it as we are going to a funeral today. Being out of town for a funeral was one of the reasons I thought I'd not be able to blog until tomorrow; however, the hazelnut coffee & bagel from Pan-o-rama have been consumed, the dogs have been walked, the poop has been pooped....and, I find myself with a few moments to write about seeing dead people.

Literally seeing dead people.

(Side note: wasn't "The Six Sense" a great movie? Seeing dead people like Bruce Willis also counts in the I See Dead People Department.)

(Side side note: Grover is featured here as I am told a guy named Grover is my spirit guide and thus he is technically a dead person so the Muppet gets to represent the dead people of the worlds of which you believe.)

BTW, please know that I mean no disrespect to the dead or to those of you who have suffered a recent loss despite my snarky comments in this blog entry. If you've suffered a recent loss, this might be a good time to stop reading this blog (I can't believe I just wrote that--I never want to "turn away" a reader) and go get some chocolate.

We went to the wake last night. When I think about it, I find wakes to be a really weird thing--you get dressed up, travel to where ever you need to travel, meet a bunch of people in some musty, tacky funeral home and stand in front of a dead person, who is dead and usually wearing something they probably wouldn't be wearing if they were alive and are holding some religious paraphernalia whether or not they were religious as an upright human being. You then stand around and socialize with people (who are in their Sunday best) that you haven't seen in years and/or who you don't know. You never know exactly what to say to the family and you know nothing you say will really help, anyways and so you say something lame like, "I'm so sorry for your loss." In the mean time, the person is still dead and usually not looking so good at all.

We won't even talk about the whole embalming thing.

Wakes are a staple of the communities of which I was born into--they are a rather normal part of the culture to which we know. I suppose it's a nice thing to give people a chance to pay their respects. I suppose it's good for closure and that it is another step in the grieving process. It certainly gives family a chance to connect and to support each other. I have to admit I was very thankful for the wake when Harvey (my client with schizophrenia and cancer) died; it gave me a moment of relief to know she was finally done with all that horrible suffering and she actually looked awesome, despite being quite dead.

As good wake attendees, we gave our condolences to the family and then waddled up to the casket. I embarrassingly confess that my first thought (of which I feel really bad), is "woof! She doesn't even look like herself," but then I remember I haven't seen her in years and she might actually look as she looked just a few short days ago. We then went on and socialized and generally had a good time. It was not a direct relative, so I think that made it even easier to have a good time while surrounded by familiar and not so familiar faces.

I assume today's funeral will NOT be such a good time, as funerals seem to be much more emotional, painful, draining and final. It's one thing to be in the room with the beloved dead person--it's another to see that casket top close and know that's the last time you will see that person (well, on Earth--depending on your views of the after life).

Me? Fry me up and toss me on a softball field. I don't want people staring at my dead body. I don't want people thinking, "man, she looks like shit!" I don't want to be embalmed (which is not required at all in the state of which I reside) because I want to be fried to ashes before I even get close to be in need of being embalmed and it's just a total waste of money to embalm someone who is being cremated. I don't want to get stuck in some dress and make-up. Cremate me and skip the wake. Go out and party. Go eat some ice cream. Say nice things if you'd like. Say not-so-nice things if it will help you. Go out to the softball field and sprinkle me around third base. Make fun of how slow a base runner I was or how I couldn't catch a pop-up. Don't waste your money on some fancy casket--get me a disposable one made for cremation. Use the money you save to buy a new car or some other fabulous parting gift.

In other words: Remember me alive, not dead.

(Of course, I am putting out the thought that you won't have to worry about any of this in regards to me for at least 50 more years. I am certainly in NO hurry to get to this point of my life. Keep remembering me alive because I am alive and blogging about morose topics like funerals.)

And so, we are off to the funeral. We'll be respectful, we'll be supportive and we'll stand with with our family members. (Side note: I will think of Harvey. You really should go back and read my blog entries about Harvey as she deserves much respect, credit, compassion and love.) Catholic mass (yum!), followed by a procession to the cemetery. After the grief and pain of those whose loved one is "moving on," we'll go out to eat with all the other mourners and things will return just a bit to normal. And, we will no longer see dead people for this particular moment.

Unless you are Grover or Moriah, who sees dead people for a living. That's a whole 'nother ball game. Remember--you put me in a casket and have a wake, Moriah the Medium is gonna tell you I am one pissed off bitch.

Godspeed, Mama Mack. Please give my love to Harvey.