Death Becomes Her

It's funny how the hand of fate steps in and flips a family around isn't it? The following is the story of how my death brought my family closer together and destroyed it at the same time. My name is Kate Johnson; I was the matriarch of my family for many years. I thought I had taught them well but as I soon discovered, my children had not learned their lessons well enough. Of course they took after their father so what did I expect?

"I'm gay," My beloved grandson Jeff announced to those around him. His father JB, short for Jack Butt, shook his head. My maternal instincts were to grab him and hold him close to me but that wouldn't have done any good seeing as I was the one lying in the coffin. "Maybe this isn't the right time to tell you but the last thing Grandma said to me was that I needed to be myself, and to be brave. So that is what I am doing."

Sure blame the dead lady. Of course he was telling the truth; I had advised him to be strong in who he was as a person, to be the sort of man that another man would want as a husband. Jeff was clearly gay and if his father didn't see that then he was blind as Mr. Magoo and as deaf as Marlee Matlin. I'm dead so I can be offensive now, not like when I was alive and had to be proper.

"I don't think that your grandmother encouraged you to tell the world that you are a cock sucker on the day she is being laid to rest," How in the world was he going to tell anyone what I was thinking or feeling when I talked to my grandson? He was nowhere to be seen when that conversation took place. I scanned the room to see if there was anything that I could throw at him and spotted a vase.

As I floated over there, I noticed my youngest daughter, Toni, hiding the corner. Tears stained her eyes, and her nose was running. Wait, the mucus in noses isn't normally powdered. Unless she had been eating a powdered donut, there was only one other reason for there to be white on her nose. Shit! Why couldn't the drugs have waited until after I was six feet under? It would be great if she could lay off of them altogether but why on the day when I was being celebrated, did she have to have her nose candy? Luckily I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"You could've waited to have a snort until after mom's funeral," My eldest daughter Joy sneered. Of course she had no room to walk, her black skirt was slightly askew and the buttons on her blouse were not done up right. Such a proud moment for me, one daughter a drug addict and the other a floozy, we were giving the Bundy's a run for their dysfunctional money. "My God, are you really that self-centered?"

Toni looked up at her sister, her brown eyes so dead and glassy. "I'm self-centered? Dear God that has to be joke and a half. You just got done fucking the funeral director but I'm the bad one right? I'm the black sheep of the family!"

"I did no such thing. I told you all that he was comforting me, this has been a very hard week for me what with my divorce being finalized on the day mom decided to take eternal slumber and all," Notice how it's my fault, I decided to die, not a man chose to fire a gun at me and the bullet was lodged in my heart. No for my family this was my ultimate act of betrayal, for I had a choice in the matter to die. "Everyone else is so wrapped up in their own grief that no one has taken the time to make sure I'm ok."

Once Joy began her fake sobbing, I had to get away from them; otherwise I would lose my mind. Do ghosts go insane? I'm pretty sure they do, but they call themselves poltergeists, I think. "Unless he has a magical dick, I don't see how in the world he was comforting you. I have moaned the same 'Oh My God' before and trust me it wasn't because the guy was hugging me."

I smiled. Sure, Toni might be a no good drug addict but at least she can hold her own when it comes to verbal assaults. High as a kite and still as sharp as a used crayon, that's how I always described her before the madman shot me and that's the description I'll keep on using. The drugs took their toll on her mind a long time ago but she can still come up with a zinger now and again.

I moved away from my dueling daughters and wanted to check in on Jeff again, make sure he was ok. I was most concerned about how JB was handling the news until I seen Jeff's mother Charlene by my casket crying. I moved in closer to her, to hear what she was saying. I knew it wouldn't be nice; I couldn't stand the cow when I was alive and I was sure that the feelings were mutual. "... You went and got yourself shot. I mean I know I thought about doing it myself quite a few times, you were a mean, nasty old woman but you were the mother of my husband and you deserved some respect. But how dare you tell my son that it is ok that he is gay, it is against God and you know that!"

What the hell did this bitch know about God? She screwed my son on their first date, got pregnant and tricked him into marriage. She was what we used to call a first class slut, and that's being nice about it. She made me madder than a George W. Bush supporter at a Dixie Chicks concert. I was going to try and hold back my anger, when I realized that I didn't need to anymore, another of the perks of being dead.

So I did what any self-respecting woman would do. I floated over to a vase of flowers and threw it at Charlene. It smacked her right in the head and shattered into a thousand little pieces. That would teach the harlot to make the day that my life was supposed to be celebrated, about her. Why hadn't I done this before? It was all of those useless shrinks I went to see, and their so called anger management. Please if I wanted my anger to be managed I'd have hired a punching bag. Come to think of it, I did, I called him 'husband'.

Angrily Charlene spun around and glared at JB. She stood up from the familiar position of being on her knees and marched herself over to my son. I wished I had a bucket of popcorn and some Neon Wine, which is white wine with a healthy dosage of vodka in it; this was going to be an incredible show. Who wouldn't love a good fight at their funeral? Except those pesky peace keepers but even then it would be a hoot.

When she reached her husband, she hauled off and slapped him. It was one of those daytime soap opera slaps, but you know in real life. JB, who was never the gentleman, decided that a punch in her gut would be the right retaliation for Charlene. As soon as his fist connected with her stomach, she was down on the ground crying like the bitch she was.

Not content with just his wife being on the ground, JB went after Jeff. What he wasn't expecting was for my grandson to be quicker than his mother. With a fist raised, JB's face went white as his groin met the sole of Jeff's shoe. Like his wife, he was down for the count. However he was not content with letting his son get the best of him. "You fight like a girl!"

"Yeah, well you sleep with them. So which of us really has it worse?" Jeff taunted his father. I wanted to warn him that Joy was sneaking up behind him but he wouldn't be able to hear me, plus as much as I loved him, he was a part of the show. Finally Joy made her move and pulled his hair. What the hell was this the Ricki Lake Show? My God at least those bastards over at Jerry Springer had the balls to throw chairs. Jeff didn't even say ouch, which made me prouder of him. Instead he turned around to face his aunt. "Did you really just pull my hair? What are you 12?"

Before Joy could respond, Jeff grabbed her hair and arm and flung her away from him. Unfortunately as he did this Charlene was standing up, and Joy collided with her. Charlene went flying into my casket, knocking it over. My body came out on top of her, which did not please me at all. Charlene cried out "Eww I have a dead body on me!"

I wanted to say "Look bitch this wasn't a picnic for me either you know. Now I would have to find a way to get my body cremated so that I wouldn't have slut cooties on me for the rest of eternity." Here I had hoped that I could be in a mausoleum or something and now my beautiful body would need to be burned. Another vase to her head would be just right for Charlene for wrecking my eternal rest as she did.

I surveyed the fight; somehow Toni had gotten involved and was punching wildly at both of her siblings. Joys blouse had been torn off revealing that she did not have on a bra. Who doesn't wear a bra to bury their mother?

"Looks like your clothes were torn off yet again in this funeral home. Who knew that dead people turned you on so much?" Damn for a drug addict Toni was on a roll. Maybe being on drugs made her more interesting. I turned my head around to see what was happening with my corpse.

As Jeff helped load my body back into my forever bed, Charlene stood up and brushed herself off. I wanted to scream at her and let her know that I was the one worried about disease and what not, she shouldn't be. She looked at the fighting siblings and shook her head. "This is not what Kate would have wanted. The whole family fighting, she was not that type of person. She would want us together, comforting one another." Why in the world was that bitch putting words into my mouth.

"Actually you're wrong mom. Grandma would want us fighting and acting as if everything were normal, she wouldn't want our lives to stop just because she was stolen from us," My grandbaby was so damn smart. I couldn't be prouder, unless of course he ended up nailing a future president.

My three children embraced one another and for the first time since I was shot, they cried together. Jeff and Charlene soon joined them in the tear-fest, which made me sick. Who wants tears at a funeral?

Now I know you wanted a nice, neat, happy ending but this is real life not some damn fairytale. There was no easy way to wrap up this saga with a little bow on top, so I will just say that Toni kept doing drugs, Joy continued sleeping with inappropriate men, JB and Charlene enjoyed their odd marriage, and Jeff smoked all the pole he could. This was the story of how my death brought my family together and how it broke them apart. Now I need a drink.