As I was getting dressed this morning I looked through all my black clothes and I came across my “I’m blogging this” shirt and contemplated wearing it to my grandfathers funeral for about five minutes. I mean, it is funeral standard black and I am clearly blogging about the event right now, so why not advertise while I’m at it? Then I remembered that I really adore my “I’m blogging this” shirt and wearing it to my grandfathers funeral would deem it un-wearable in the future because of the memories that would be attached to it… That and my mother would kill me. So I picked a pair of black pants, a simple black top and my ouchie shoes (uncomfortable black shoes that I never wear), I would later spend 3 hours swearing at said ouchie shoes for being just so fucking uncomfortable. I was ready to mourn.
We arrived and were greeted by the funeral director who was as quiet as a mouse, I don’t understand why funeral directors always say “sorry for you loss” it reminds me of hookers in Thailand who say “me love you long time” and don’t mean any of it.
It was a lovely service, my favourite part was when he said “he was a armchair sportsman” about my grandfather, it made us all laugh and kept things light hearted, which is what he wanted. I kept thinking all through the service about how when I was little I used to cut his hair – with imaginary scissors of course – I would make idle chit chat about the weather and cut away with my fingers. I couldn’t believe he is really gone.
One of my mum’s many cousins (my grandfather had 11 sisters and brothers) came up to me after the service, she grabbed me and proceeded to squeeze every bit of air out of me while saying “he was a great man your pop”, I was thinking “who are you?” I hardly knew any of his family; there are just so bloody many of them that it’s hard to keep track of them all.
Here is my kit to get through a funeral…
- Panadol – For headachy badness.
- Excuses – As to why you haven’t rung aunt what’s-her-face in years.
- Tissues – Rent a truck and fill it with boxes of tissues, better yet, rent a plane to drop them from the sky.
- Umbrella – Because it always fucking rains.
- A confused look – To be used when your mothers cousin grabs you and starts shaking you while saying “you’ve grown up”. Well, yes, people tend to do that.
As we were driving home my mum said “how much do you think the funeral director gets paid?” To which I replied “I’m not sure”, she then started talking out loud to herself, “It would be quite a nice job” she informed herself. She kept pondering and finally said “I think that would be a good job for me”.
Leave it to my mum to think about future job possibilities at a funeral.
Kitta.net 
ouchie shoes are bad.
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Eh, I am not sure wether a funeral director would be a good job.
And I also agree with you that a “I am blogging this” T-Shirt is not the right thing to wear.
I am sorry for your grandfather’s loss (no I am not getting money for this).
Reading this and the previous blog entry makes me think how glad I am that my grandparents are still alive and relatively healthy. Also, yet people I know are still alive. I hope the moment where I have to write posts like those to my blog won’t come too soon. You seem to be quite strong taking this, that is adoreable.
Well, if I can do something, let me know, even if I am quite a stranger.
And now, I hope I didn’t babble too much crap, but I wanted to say this to you. Heh
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Leave off the headache tablets. Your body is quite capable of taking care of a simple headache without resorting to chemicals.
I know it sounds trite, but I _am_ sorry for your loss. Grandparents are funny in that you don’t really appreciate them fully until they’re gone. In some ways they are our first contact with adult levels of guilt…
Or maybe that’s just me.
Jim
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Hi Kitta,
Always keep those happy memories of him and we always be with you..
Maybe A DEDICATION POST MY BE IN ORDER AND MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER? WITH PICTURES AND OTHER STORIES.
this a thought!
you mom sound real something lol lol but right now she still upset and maybe that the way she cope with it.
Dan M.
Ma USA
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I disagree with GreyArea. Your body needs chemicals to kill those nasty headaches.
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GreyArea: you are not my doctor and you know nothing about my health, so please refrain from giving unsolicited advice.
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the me love you long time reference made coke come out my nose from laughing 🙂
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I think you may have misunderstood me: if your doctor has prescribed headache medication then obviously I’m not going to contradict them – that would be foolish. Doctors know best. I’m talking about casual “I’ve got a slight headache, let’s pop a pill” scenarios.
Jim
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Your family sounds like mine at funerals. Also my mom is the same way? She will say odd things at wierd moments.
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Hi Kitta,
I’m not goint to try and say profound things, I just want to tell you that I only realized how much I missed my grandfather a few weeks after he died. I had finally landed an intersting job, and I tought “what will he think about that?”, when it suddenly came back at me. He was dead.
Some days I still think of him in the same way, as if if was still alive, and I feel sad, not because he’s dead (which is something that lacks reality to me) but because of the consequences. I miss our conversations.
…
Did you *personaly* experienced the “me love you long time” line?
Take care,
Bye
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