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It seems that my family cannot do anything just the plain old by the book way. Ever. Always a story to tell. Even when it involves a funeral.
My Aunt Nana (my grandmother's sister) died this week. Nearly blind, nearly deaf, but a memory like an I don't know what. She was one of the sharpest 90-year olds I've ever met.
Her roomate at the nursing home where she spent the last 4 years of her life was a very close friend of hers. Over the 3 years that they were roomates, they became very good friends. Aunt Nana took care of her roomate since she had had many strokes and could not talk. She tucked her in at nite, called the nurse if she needed one, helped her to the bathroom day or nite. Always put others before herself. Well, Aunt Nana died on Monday evening in her sleep. Her roomate was very upset by her passing and (eerily) passed away less than 30 minutes later of natural causes.
The funeral was today and her son, who is a minister down east, came here and was to do the service. For his own mother. Last nite, he stayed up late to write down what he was going to say but he was falling asleep so he decided to go to bed. Well, on his way to the bedroom, in the dark, he fell down the stairs and knocked himself unconscious. Luckily, he was ok, and he was there today to perform the service, bruises and stitches in his head and all.
After the very nice service, they are carrying the coffin down the aisle at the church and out the door. Bang.. The coffin accidentally gets rammed into a bench. And then...Vrooooom. One of the pallbearers, squeezing his way down the stairs, accidentally presses the automatic car starter in his pocket. Then, as the hurse drives away from the church, SMASSSSHHHH...the little old church ladies inside who are setting up the refreshments accidentally knock over the table with all the punch and glasses on it.
Only in my family.
Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.