My Third Funeral

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D3’s Nan died this weekend and we are on our way to Scotland in 2 days.

I had a huge panic attack yesterday and fixated on the fact that there would be nothing there that I could eat, and that I probably was coming down with a cold and that I would be ok if we cancelled my ticket because we still had 24 hours to save the money.

Which is amazing to me as I think on it this morning. Yeah, I have a bit of a fall sinus headache (what else is new) and I am trying to eat better, and I am available to just drop everything because I am on Sabbatical for working, plus there is plenty of money right now. So what the hell?

Then it hit me. It is a Funeral for the only grandma I have had in 30 years. I never met my parents moms. I met my grandpa’s 3rd wife when I was 8 and I loved her madly. Her name was Jake and she wore Red cowboy boots with a turquoise pancho. She was thin and vivacious. She painted and wore costume jewelry. She was a waitress in a greasy spoon at the age of 70. She was a rock star. And I had her for 2 years. She died at work while she was carrying a tray across the room to customers. She just died. I went to her funeral at the age of 10, my first one.

When I was in college, the guy I was dating had a grandma who was vivacious and strong. She was a small Italian woman who just gave everyone love, food, a sharp remark and a laugh, and more food all the time. I never questioned her black hair and red lips and perfect wool skirts and sweaters. She had not changed her style in 60 years, why start now. She introduced me as her “grandkid”. I had her for 3 years, until at a 4th of July party when we were all sitting watching family and the baby cousins running around in the yard. She was sitting there with the sweetest smile. Then she just fell over. I went to the second funeral I have ever gone to.

I have been with D3 for 3 years and have had Nan for about 2 and a half years. When I went over the first time to meet the family and we announced we were getting married, she had us over for tea. It was the perfect Scottish Grandma tea. She had made all sorts of treats and had a little tea tray on wheels that she had D3 wheel out for her. Talk came to the upcoming wedding. I was feeling that at 52, I was a little to old to have the wedding of my dreams. I told her that since D3 had been married once before maybe it should be no big deal. She asked me if I had ever had a wedding. I told her no, I had been single and D3 was my first real love. Without a blink, she looked me straight in the eye and said, “I was a single working woman who was convinced I was going to die a spinster. Then I met D3’s widowed grandfather, and things were different. We all deserve the wedding we dreamed of as a child. I was 60 when I got mine. So you are just fine at 52.”

I love that woman for that.

So I am going to my third Funeral.

 

Author: Zoe

I use words. I watch things. I see what you may not. Bio info is hard.

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