Memorial

We didn't exactly have a funeral for my grandfather. We had a "viewing" at the funeral home, and then a short burial service with the family the next day. It was simple. Oma said it's exactly what she wanted and what he would have wanted.

At the viewing we had a receiving line, and my aunt wanted us grandchildren to be a part of it. I stood first in the line, followed by my cousins and brother, then my aunt, my dad, my second cousin, and Oma, all leading up to the open casket. This was awkward. We stood for an hour, and of all the people who came through, I recognized only one. Over and over I greeted strangers, "Hi! Thanks for coming! We are the grandchildren! I'm Michelle!" I accidentally made a point to introduce us as the grandchildren to my cousin's in-laws, who, of course, knew that already. I was told how wonderful it was that I could come up from the States for the occasion, and mistaken for Lisa several times. My cousin Lisa, who is living in the States, was called Michelle much more, even though she'd met these people way more than I had. Lisa also had someone notice her figure and ask her when she's due. "Er, not too soon." Lisa's not pregnant. It's fortunate that she's comfortable enough with herself to not be crushed by such a comment. Someone told Travis and I that we have an adorable child and it took us a moment to understand what they were saying and to clarify that we were not together, that we were cousins, and that Travis's wife was at that moment chasing their adorable child around the funeral parlour.

On the topic of an open casket: corpses are strange concepts. A body without life. He looked like he belonged in a wax museum.

A lot of people, after coming through the line, greeting us, and viewing my grandfather's body, would then sit down in one of the pews that filled the rest of the room. Perhaps they were taking a moment for their grief, or perhaps they expected more of a service to follow (they left shortly after they were informed otherwise). Meanwhile, my cousins and I were standing at the front, talking and laughing and joking between mourners. It was hard to stay solemn and grim. We recognized this and felt bad for appearing disrespectful or interrupting anyone else's silence, but there seemed to be little we could do.