I guess I can write about this now. On June 19th, I lost my father’s mother, my grandmother. It happened on that day around 5:35am I think. It is crazy, because the Saturday before then, I got a call from my cousin, and he tells me that she was in the hospital, and she wasn’t doing too well. So, he came and got me, and we went down there. There was a lot of us down there, not as many as it usually is, but enough of us. One of the doctors finally came in, and told us that she would be fine, and should be going home in a few days. So, we had a collective sigh of relief. And wouldn’t you know it, a couple days later, my aunt calls me to tell me she passed. At first I was really saddened, I didn’t know what to think. But as the days led up to the funeral, I felt okay about it. She didn’t have to suffer any longer. No more hospital stays, no more being hooked up to machines, and tubes in her mouth. No more of that stuff. She was finally free from pain. She lived a long and fruitful life. And fruitful being the key word, she gave birth to eight big headed kids. Got to respect that gangsta.
I can’t even explain to anyone how hot it was the day of the funeral. I mean, it was make your ass silly hot. Not to mention, most of us were wearing black. Sweating bullets, as these half assed morticians lined everyone up outside the church, waiting to let us in. There was a certain type of feeling that day though. We al seemed to be in good spirits, sad, but okay with it all. There were so many people there, family I haven’t seen in a long time, family friends I haven’t seen in a long time. i made a joke while waiting outside that I have never wanted to go inside of a church so bad ever in life. That sun was brutal. When we got in, it was surely a blessing, the family was seated next to where the working air conditioners were. The folks on the other side were still hot and sweaty. I looked over and felt sorry, but was glad to have a good seat, right next to the a/c. my daughter was with me, and well behaved, which I found amazing. She tried to wipe tears from my face at times. A typical sweet moment if she would have used th fingers that she always put in her mouth. Lol.
So everything is going according to plan I guess. People got up, and said the things they wanted to say. The choir sang the usual funeral songs. My cousin did the eulogy, and sang some songs, and when she sings, she stirs up some type of feelings. Yeah, cry fest 2007, but it was cool. It was cool, until my cousin’s fiancé got up, and decided to sing happy birthday. My grandmother’s birthday was coming up, and she was supposed to perform that at the party that was planned for her. Which now I think was a sick joke. This young lady is a doll. I mean, she is one of the nicest people I have met, always has a smile on her face, and she loved my cousin dearly. And he deserved that. He was a good man. If I was half the man he was, I would be better than most people.
So, homegirl gets up to sing happy birthday. However, there was something that was not made known to us before she got up there. SHE CANNOT SING. The shit was horrible. I didn’t know what to think while listening to this song. The baby, who was half sleep in my lap, got up to see just what the hell was going on. I mean it was like a car wreck. You know it is bad, but you cant look away. I was looking around to see if there was anyone with the same look on their face as I thought I had on mine. I mean, homegirl was breaking it down at that;
“Happy Bir er er errrrr fah dayyyyyyyyyy tooooo youuuuuuuu oooh oooh oooh ohhhhhhhh.” Happy birffffdayyyy dearrrrr grammaaaaaa ah ahh ahhha haa ahhh tooo youuuuuu ooo ohhh ooo ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ooooohhh.
Man listen, I am in the church, and I was expecting Jesus to come in and snatch the microphone from her, hit her over the head with it, and bless her with some singing skills. He didn’t show up, so we had to endure something that was a sweet gesture. It was a very nice thing to do. But I think that my cousin should have told her to audition beforehand. It is not fair to go from mourning the loss of someone to completely thinking what the fuck is this, in your brain. Not fair at all. I guess we did forget about it. It wasn’t that bad, well, it was, but it wasn’t anything to focus on. We proceeded to go on, bury grandma, and go back to eat and reminisce about the good times we all shared.
A month to the day, July 19th, my cousin passed. Thirty days later, around 6am. We were basically the same age. Slept in the same room in our twenties, on bunk beds, went to the same church, had the same crazy sense of humor. We even bought the same model car, the only difference was the color. Or at least, he got me, he got the crazy person I was, but did not judge. I love him and miss him dearly. When we lived together in my aunt’s house, he graduated from college with a computer science degree. He was offered a job with the school immediately. So, while I was there, he was teaching at the school. He had the task of grading papers. Everytime he did, I would be on the top bunk making swoosh noises, because those kids were dumb as hell. At least to me. That would always crack him up. He tell me to stop it. I would be like okay, fine. SWOOSH, that of course represented him marking an answer with a red x. I still think its funny.
I could go on for years about my cousin and myself, but that would require a whole blog. His passing was just crazy to me. It sill is, it hasn’t been that long, so I find myself wanting to call to say what’s up, or what’s going on, or to joke around and talk bout things that are on our minds. We didn’t even get a chance to mourn our grandmother, and this happens. I go back to thinking like a child, and want some magical powers to bring him back. It kills me. We were supposed to be still having fun in our 40’s 50’s and 60’s, still playing practical jokes on other family, or just behaving silly. I often thought that if I could end my life to bring him back I would. But that isn’t possible. But a lot of times, I do have that thought.
Well, on the day of his funeral, it rained the whole day damn near. It was unbelievable. We were still mourning the loss of my grandmother. There was no way that this could have been going on. I kept thinking of the last time I saw him, I gave him a big hug. It wasn’t the dap type of hug, it was a hug hug. I remember him asking me to get him a cup of ice water. I cracked up, and was like, “negro, there are a million kids here at this house, we the same age, ask one of them.” In which he did, got his water, and they drove off.
I wish I had the power to write about the things that lead up to the funeral. But I cannot do it without breaking down somehow. I don’t want that to happen.
So, here we are again, in a church, about to bury another person in the family 30 days after we buried grandma. This was different though. All of us were still in shock. It’s just that this made no sense to us. To me anyways. I don’t think I have ever been so angry. I was mad that he left, I was mad that the funeral home that he worked for, which was owned by his uncle, were charging for the services. I was mad that his father, who wasn’t shit to his older kids was posturing, like he was super dad all these years. I was mad that on the projector showing his pictures during the service, never showed any of the flicks he took with my side of the family. I was mad that the services were being held at the church we both were members of. Mad that he left the church because there was bullshit going down when his pops became a member. I was mad at my aunt, because I thought she pushed him too hard, and had him taking care of her all these years. I was mad that he did for others first before he did for himself. I was mad that he didn’t live fully as I did all these years. I was mad that I couldn’t bring myself to go to the casket. I was mad that when I did go, and spoke to him, he didn’t speak back to me. I was mad that I couldn’t bring him back. I was mad at God, I was mad at Jesus. I was mad at the world that day.
The way that this funeral home had this shindig organized, didn’t make things any better. I mean they had family all spread out in the church. My family is a big family, and we should have all been in close proximity within one another. I got the short end of the stick. I was fucking sitting with some of the faculty from the school, his job. Here I am sitting next to some white guy, that I don’t know from a can of paint. Mourning the loss of my cousin. Who the hell was I supposed to lean on? When the choir starts singing the upper room, was I supposed to collapse in this white dude’s arms and shit? Hells nah!!! I was pissed. I am looking at most of my family sitting rows in front of me, and I am livid. I kept getting up, to try to squeeze in next to some of my cousin’s, only for Krege’s grandmother to stop me, and tell me those seats were reserved for his grandfather, and his wife. WTF?!!!! They weren’t even there yet. How in the world are you going to reserve a seat at a funeral. How are you going to be an usherette at your own grandchild’s funeral. I was heated to say the least. I wanted to find a neck to strangle. I guess the white dude to my left sensed it, so his ass kept doing the booty slide, to get a little distance. Smart move on his part.
So, I am sitting there, my ass hurts from these hard assed benches, still mad at the world. However, a miracle happened. During funerals, they allow peole to get up and say some kind words about the deceased. My cousin had a very good friend named Lance, he was older than us, but Krege was like an older brother to him. He took care of Lance. I cant really describe Lance, all I can say is that he is truly a character. He has these super thick glasses, and he talks very funny. Sort of like daffy duck in a way. So, he gets up to say some words. The projector showed what he was saying, but he didn’t say shit that was on the projector. It was like he forgot how to read, and decided to go impromptu with it. Of course, being in the church he starts out with a prayer;
“FAWTHA GAWD, THANK YOUF FORTH THIS DAYTH THE LAWD HATH MADE, ID LIKE TO THANK YOUTH FAWTHA GAWD BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT I NEED TO DO, IM NOT GONNA RAD OFF THIS SHEET BECAUSE IMA COME FROM THE HEART GAWD, THIS WAS MY BROTHA, I MISS HIM…ETC ETC.”
Yeah, it was touching, and sweet. He is a good guy. But we all knew what to expect, because he spoke at grandma’s funeral a month earlier. Just like old girl singing then, we didn’t laugh or anything, because it was a nice thing to do.
I am sitting in my seat, and I am pretty sure that the services are close to over. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. My heart was a little bit lighter, thanks to Lance. But ah ha, my cousin still had a sense of humor after all. They announce, that his fiancé is going to sing a song. She was going to sing a fucking song. I swear to you, everyone that was at my grandmother’s funeral, had a collective “OH SHIT” come out. You couldn’t hear it really, but, oh yeah, it was there.
So she starts. I am trying my hardest not to laugh. I mean I tried so damn hard. This was the worst struggle I would ever endure. Most of my family is in front of me, and I can see them breaking down. My cousin Samar, was the first to bolt to the bathroom. He didn’t even hide it. He had a big assed grin on his face. He tried his best to look pitiful and sad. It didn’t fool me. I looked at his mom, and she was having convulsions, the type you have when you are either laughing or crying, and she damn sure wasn’t crying. Then, another one of my cousins gets up, and walks to the back towards the bathroom. Now, he was just pitiful, he put his shades on and tried to act like he was coughing, and crying at the same time. I am sitting there thinking, “you are not fooling me dog.” See, I am getting worried, because a lot of people got up and allegedly went to the bathroom. One of my aunts got up to follow my cousin, and she walks by, and she is chuckling her ass off.
Now I have the obituary covering my mouth. The white guy next to me is giving me a look like I am the worst person in the world. My cousin Digg is two rows in front of me, with his wife. His head was so deep in her armpit with laughter, that I didn’t see how I was going to maintain a stoic appearance. This song was too fucking long I kept thinking. Even the guy playing the organ found it hard to keep it in. I saw him grinning too. I have another cousin, she was seated two rows in back of me. She kept calling me. I am sitting there like “man, I am NOT going to look at her.” She just didn’t give a fuck really. So, I look at her, they are all cracking the hell up. I couldn’t resist anymore. It came out, it wasn’t a chuckle, it was one of them belly laughs. I go back to sit with my cousin Nikki, and we are just dying. We are cracking jokes. Her brother comes, my cousin Quan, sits next to us, and says “so, what do ya’ll think of Erica Badoodoo.” HOLY SHIT!!!
It was over from that point. I had to get up. There is no way that I could continue to mourn in this fashion. I mean after that statement, how could you? The timing was perfect. I went to the bathroom to join other family members who could not get rid of the giggles. I mean after the performance, things were a little better. We don’t mis him any less or anything. And I am sure that it was his idea to make it rain all day and to have her singing at the services. A jokester to the end, huh Krege? We will always love you and miss you. No more pain for you cousin.