Two Funerals and a Reunion

         I was driving to my granparent's house, admiring those majestic mountains that I grew up looking at. No matter how big I got they never got any smaller. When I was younger I used to believe that the whole world was surrounded by mountains because they were all I could see as I looked around. The sky was bordered with their monstrous outlines. Whenever I came back I always found myself wondering, why I ever left them in the first place. The house where my grandparents lived most of my life was settled snuggly in the midst of mountains. I always loved the drive to their old red brick house that had been built over a hundred years ago, even though it was an hour away from any real civilization, I knew this was the place where my heart felt most at home. I needed no paper to prove I was somebody, no job to proove I had status, I was perfect in the eyes of these mountains and my ancsestors that were burried among them. The mountains would suddenly become to me like large skyscrapers, the wheat fields were their expansive city blocks, and the rocks and wild flowers became the crowds that worshiped the natural mightyness.The mountains give me unconditional love. I took my first steps on that mountain and something inside of me has never forgotten that. I grew up and moved on to more important things like a place where I can get to a superstore in five minutes, but the mountain never left the girl.
         Even though it felt like years had passed, it had only been a couple of days since I had been standing at "register one" in the superstore where I worked as a friendly cashier, and I was busily ringing up the twenty items or less that people came in to buy. My husband approached the register with one of my "supervisors" because he had something unpleasant to tell me. The "supervisor" he had so carefully procured so that if I took the news to badly, would be available to help me, disappeared as she thought my husband just was not smart enough to figure out what register I was at. He stated, "I have something I need to tell you." I turned and looked at him, and at once told him that I did not want to hear what he had to tell me and to go away. I knew what he had to say, I had gotten the phone calls from the family days before, "Gramps was in a bad way." I had heard them, I just refused to believe them. I had tried to call my grandpa once while he was in the hospital, but the nurse said there was a problem with his hearing aide and he could not talk to me. I had feared it was worse news than just a nonworking hearing aide, and never called back again.
          I flipped my light on, and waited for a "supervisor" to come to my register. When one came I asked if she would to allow me to go home because my grandfather had passed away. I could barely squeeze the words out of my throat, my husband had not needed to tell me, I knew. She gave me go ahead, and I cleared out my register. I started to cry violently and one of my "supervisors" who is usually rude and unavailable was the only available shoulder I could find, so I sobbed heavily on her, and then gathered myself together, and clocked out.
         I was in deep pain over my grandfather dying, and I was in a place where people mindlessly spend their money and try not to think about their own deep pains. I was oblivious to them all. The struggle for life or death was over for my gramps, and I found this out in one of the most shallow places I think a person can be, a superstore, that can sell you something for everything that ails you, but can not give you the one thing that most people are looking for, and money can not buy. That is love. This is something my grandfather had always had plenty of for me.
         The last time I had seen my grandpa I asked him if he had ever gotten tired of looking at the mountains, and he laughed and said, "No way baby." I never realized how much he called me baby until he died, and now it is the what I remember him calling me most. Maybe things like that are not important until you loose them in your life.
The funeral for my gramps was going to be on a Wednesday. Just before I went home I learned that my great uncle, who was my grandma's brother, had died just twenty four hours before my grandpa had. I can not imagine how that must feel to loose your brother and your husband in the same week, but my grandma was holding up well.
         My Uncle Earl was L.D.S. all of his life, and was well known for being dedicated to his family and his church. In the end his family was more important because they wanted to play a video at his funeral that had country music on it and the church officials refused to let them have the services at the church because of the music on the video. Even so, the L.D.S church elders officiated through the whole funeral. It is tradition in the L.D.S. church. These where people my Uncle Earl did not know well, and people his family did not know at all, yet they spoke on Earl's behalf about the church, what it meant to Earl, and what it should mean to everyone. My sister was laughing so hard I made her put a Kleenex up to her eyes so that she looked like she was sobbing, unfortunately, she has a few "issues" with the L.D.S. people. It was sad for most of the family, who where not as dedicated church members but to remember him. His daughter and grandaughter did a beautiful life sketch on him, and everyone sang, "You Are My Sunshine" because this was his favorite song.
         I sat with my sister, and four of my grandpa’s brothers who had shown up for the funeral. I never realized how everyone knew everyone even before my grandparents had gotten married. It was explained to me that one of my grandpa’s brothers, Uncle Orvin, and my grandma's brother Uncle Earl were called Siamese twins when they were young. They had always wanted to be "real" brothers, and were thrilled when my grandma and grandpa got married because this made them brothers-in-law. When I mentioned this to my Uncle Orvin, he told me that it was the truth, but choosing different religions had sent them each on their own separate paths as adults. I asked if church was supposed to do that, but I received no answer. Orvin was the only one of the brothers that went out to the grave sight for the benediction. Perhaps this was so that he could see where Earl was being placed so that he could go back later and make his peace with him. Tuesday was a strange day because I had gone to my Uncle Earl's funeral that morning, and that night I was going to my grandpa’s viewing. It felt like the day had just begun. It was perhaps the longest and shortest day of my life. I dreaded seeing my grandpa laying in state. Funerals never bothered me too much even as a kid, but I never like seeing someone I love so much in a casket. It is so final. His father, my great grandfather, was buried in a pine box, I will never forget that. He had a large spray of orange flowers on top of the pine box that made it feel like fall in the room, and it was so fitting for an old mountain man.
         I went to get roses before the viewing at the local grocery store. This store has been there as long as I could remember. When I lived up on the mountain and we used to come down and shop for our groceries once a month at this store. When I was dating my ex husband in high school he was a bag boy there. My mother had first met him when he was at work in this store, and was so impressed with his charming smile.
         I wanted to get yellow roses for my grandfather, because he always loved the Yellow Rose of Texas that had been planted on the mountain he was born on by the pioneers traveling on the Oregon Trail. All I could find were orange roses. Perhaps they too were fitting for that old mountain man, the basket that the roses were in was made up of what looked like thick pine twigs, it was just perfect, except for the bow, I hated it. My sister mentioned I should just change it for the bow that was in the other basket sitting there. Good idea! I switched them quickly and walked to the register.
         I saw Josie, an old classmate of mine who had worked at this store since we had graduated high school some twenty years before. I had not spoken to her since high school because she had borrowed my class ring when we were Seniors, and then when I asked for it back she claimed I had never lent it to her! I had been angry at her for all those years. Fate must have been with me because on this day she walked over to the register I was checking out at, and I surprised myself by asking her if she was going to go to the twenty year class reunion that I knew was coming up soon, although, I did not now when. She said that it was this weekend and she had not taken off work for it. I was shocked, here was the girl who had stolen my class ring telling me about our twenty year class reunion, and I would be in town because of my grandfather’s funeral. In the same week I was getting unexpected news at a register, only this time it was good news.
         My sister and I pulled up next to the funeral home and parked. It seems from the moment I got to the funeral home until the moment that I actually laid eyes on my grandfather everything that happened is etched on my mind completely in tact forever.
         My sister and I walked in and signed the guest book. The funeral director met us at the double doors to the funeral parlar where my granfather was resting. This was the very parlar that first his mother and then his father had been in when they had died years before. I could see his casket, I could see the flowers that were sent, but I just could not see him yet. I am not one to procrastinate. I walked over to greet my gramps. To my surprise he looked wonderful! Very peaceful and happy. Better than I had ever dreamed he would, I could not take my eyes off him. He had been sick in past years, and the sickness had taken a toll on his looks, but now that the effects of the medications where not obvious, he was as handsome as ever. He had a slight smile on his face as well. I was told later when I asked about the smile that this is just part of the prep for a funeral that the funeral home does, and they are able to put a smile on some peoples face, and some people will not smile no matter what they try to do. My grandpa was smiling as sweetly and peacefully as anyone had ever before him had ever been. He looked like an old man, not a sick man, and I was able to convince myself that he lived a long life on his terms and not on the terms of the illnesses that he suffered from. This was basically true too, because it was just a couple of weeks before he had been outside, in his wheelchair, herding sheep with his neighbor, who was a life long friend, and the neighbor's dog. My grandfather had commented, "The damn dog that could learn a thing or two about herding sheep."
         When my grandma came in I walked with her to gaze upon him for her first time since his death. She turned to the funeral director and told him that my grandpa looked so good she was ready to take him home. This was a little shocking to the funeral director, but knowing my grandma, I was not surprised. I just giggled with her, humor can lighten a sad moment.
         The funeral was held in my sister's church. It was ironic, my Uncle Earl had dedicated his life to church and his life was eulogized in a funeral parlor. My grandfather loved God, but was not much on attending church, and his life was celebrated in a church.
         The viewing had not had very many people in attendance, and so I was surprised to see the amount of people at the church. He was an old man who had died after being sick for a few years, but my grandfather never stopped living his life with zest and the amount of people at his funeral was proof. 157 people signed the guest book. I am sure many more would have been in attendance if they could have. He had touched so many lives. His baby brother officiated the funeral, but many people spoke. I was one, my sister was another, and his son spoke as well. A touching letter my mother had written to him years before was read. Most of his brothers spoke of him, and there memories of his life. How he touched them, took care of them, and held the family together with his love and high standards. The gentleman who was in charge of the American Legion my grandfather had been a member of spoke of how when he was a little boy my grandfather was his first friend. One of his great grandaughter's sang a song for him. At the end we all sang my gramp's favorite song, "How Great Thou Art" and tears ran down our faces just as they had his when he was alive as he sang the song. It was a fitting funeral for that old mountain man.
There was one more healing moment during my visit, my twenty year high school reunion.
         The reunion was the Saturday before I had to get on a plane and go back to my family. I had only gone to that school for one year, my senior year. The school was large, there was three hundred graduating in my class, and had I stayed in the mountains were we had moved from, there would have only been twenty five people.
         It was a big year for me. I had never been popular with the kids on the mountain because they were such a close knit community, and we never belonged to the right church. It was very difficult for my sisters and I to fit in. In this new school I found that it was incredibly easy to make friends. I met my ex husband that year, and by the time I graduated I was six months pregnant and married to him. Some might say that was sad, and it is nothing I wish on anyone, but I am grateful for my beautiful daughter and her sister who came out of this relationship. I was not sure how many people would remember me at the reunion, but I did know that my ex husband had came into town to attend it. Ironically, we had talked about going to a high school reunion for many years, I really never dreamed it would actually happen. I have had many problems with my ex husband. We were not on the best of terms. I was apprehensive about going, and yet something drove me to go. I saw that my best friend from high school who was the maid of honor at our wedding was also going to be there. I was excited about that. I arrived before anyone else. I was the first one to arrive.
         As the room filled up, and faces from the past came into focus I did not recognize many of them. Some had not changed too much, and some had changed a great deal. A lot of them remembered me, and some remembered me better than I remembered them. They were all really nice people, and I took comfort in knowing that they had turned out all right whether I remembered them or not. I just reminded them that I was the small girl who had walked like a duck across campus because I was pregnant, five foot three, and was trying to keep up with my six foot three husband of the time, who I figured they did remember.
         My ex finally got there, the person I was probably went to see anyway, and when I saw him I gave him a hug. I had stopped speaking to him within the past few months, so this was a surprise to him, I told him that it was the evening to put our differences behind us, and he agreed. Then I saw my girlfriend from high school, she had arrived at the same time. She was one of those people who had not changed one bit! She looked like she had just walked out of the door of our high school yesterday. Everyone recognized her, and wanted to say hello to her. She kept insisting that I follow her around and pose with her in the pictures they wanted to take, and she told me what she frequently had told me in high school, I was her only true friend. She had been a cheerleader back then, but always seemed so down to earth, and I enjoyed her friendship and yet envied her at the same time for this reason. She and I had one tiff in high school where she had stolen my boyfriend, but he and I had only dated for a week, and they ended up dating for a year. She apologized to me for that, and I said that I was pretty sure I had forgiven her back then or she would not have been the maid of honor at my wedding with my ex. We sat with my ex to eat dinner, and when the music started I danced with her and my ex husband. I had a blast. I remembered what it was about my ex I had been attracted to, and it was a nice feeling, but I also knew that my family I have today is what I am most grateful for. I met a girl that was a shirt tale cousin while I was mingling before we started dancing, and I had to laugh because one of my grandpa’s favorite sayings was, "Be nice to everyone cause you never know who you might be related too".
         My ex husband told me that he thought my grandpa was a good man, and that he was sorry that he had passed away. If he had come to the funeral he would have been one of three ex husbands from the family, two others were there. We mended some fences that night. It is very hard to communicate with someone who lives three thousand miles away from you when you do not trust them in the first place. It seemed the perfect place for him and I to rekindle a friendship. I also learned that he had known my best freind and maid of honor, and had even considered dating her before we met! I did not know this at the time of our wedding, neither one of them mentioned it. I do not think it was really a big deal to them, except to me it just showed how I lived my life in a vacumn back then not really considering how others lives are so interconnected with my own.
         My ex husband has been one of the few people in my life that I have had a very hard time forgiving. That night I began the journey towards some healing in that relationship. We have been able to continue to communicate and mend some long time broken fences since then.
         Funerals and reunions have something in common they are both reminders of our history and the past experiences that lie within them. They both off a chance to say goodbye to a childhood or a friend. I believe that we can not move forward with the future until our past has become healed because these experiences will always linger in the back of our minds never really finding a place in history to rest. I put a lot of history to rest during that trip home, and I am grateful that I could. It was like a miracle to me. No gift could have been greater than the gift that I received from that trip. Each experience intermingled with the other to help me make peace with myself. I am not a religious person, but I am a spiritual one. This was a spiritual journey back home into the past within the present. They say you can never go home. I say, get home while you can; it is not to late even if it is a funeral or a reunion. Each person in your past can hold a key that will unlock the door to the future. Each part of this story is true. Each time I go home, a new small part of me stays and a another part of my old self leaves. The part that leaves is renewed with hope that some day I will be able to achieve my dream and move home for good. The mountains are my home, and in my heart I have never left their glorious beauty.
Read a little more about my grandpa at:
http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?
page=gr&GSmid=6742674&GRid=5581818&
(you will have to copy and paste this URL)

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