This year my family (purely through blood) buried Grandma Jackie on my birthday without telling anyone or planning anything. She had passed away on January 22nd, it's not like there was a rush. It was not how I imagined we would honor her. I had a birthday party for myself the night before. I usually don't expect more than 2 people to come over. But my aunt and my cousin and her husband and her children and my other cousin, and my cousin-in-law and her future husband all came because they knew what a rough year I am having, also I am a good time.
I found out that night that they were burying my Grandma Jackie the next day at 9am. I got a call during the party. I showed up with my 7 year old son Zack and no one was there. I called my mom who was stuck at work having also not known about the burial. She made a few calls and found out they weren't showing up for another hour. They must have been too drunk to remember the time right when they called to upset my mother the night before. I waited until after 10am and finally someone showed up.
On the supposed day of my Grandmother's burial. When my aunt and two cousins finally showed up, I had to leave. They had brought a friend who wasn't close with my Grandmother even though they told no one else in the family about the burial ahead of time. They had their shoulders back, their heads held high and shit eating grins on their faces. As if they had one upped me by finally decided to bury my grandmother. Even though she had wanted to be buried in the Spring, her favorite season. August 9th is no where near the fucking spring. I decided to leave instead of let my fury desecrate my family's Ogborne grave site. I have never felt such anger coursing through my veins before. I asked Zack what we should do, he said, "Mommy we should leave and come back later."
I went back with my husband Kyle later that day, just the two of us. It was beautiful out, the perfect day. We went back as the summer sun was staring to go down. I'm glad he knew her, she really liked Kyle. My "family" had given me the closure I wanted finally. And solidified the lesson for me that some people you just need to let go of from your life. And I don't know if it was a deliberate move to upset me or not, but it backfired if it was, that they happened to have it on my birthday. But my birthday means a lot more to me than most people. It was like a family holiday. At the pool when I was a kid, it was the last big party before August in New Jersey starts to get colder and rainy.
There was family who intentionally planned a life event to hurt me, and there was real family who showed up to eat cake with me for my birthday, and who had a good time for me despite the awkward situation my "family" had put me in. They would have come to a funeral for me like people do. We don't have funerals for those who passed away but for those who are still alive to remember. Family is who you love. Loving other people means you consider someone else's feelings when making decisions instead of just your own. All we leave behind when we die is the feeling we've left in other people.
I've wanted to write about that experience for a long time now. But I cry. I'm all teary now. It's been a fucking he'll of a week. I thought I'd have time to mourn my grandma's New Year's Eve parties. Every year she complained no one came, even though she never invited anyone other than me and my mom. A running joke. I didn't Feel like banging pots this year even though I told myself I would. Every holiday this year has had an unpleasant sting of nostalgia and long forgotten times remembered.
Then on New Year's Day another fucked up tragedy happened. My other grandmother's house caught fire and luckily her and my cousin got out safe and alive. Unfortunately Garuda the kitten didn't survive. But I forgot about being sad on New Year's Day thinking about not having dinner with Grandma Jackie. Instead I was just happy to be with family, even the ones who hate me for my bleeding heart-liberal-lazy-loud-slow (and all the other words I've been called) self. They had to at least pretend to be nice to me. I was busy appreciating everyone who is alive. I was raised that family comes together and helps one another when the tragedy of life is happening.
We didn't choose each other. We are blood or someone who is blood chose to marry you. We have family because it is better than living alone. There isn't any point to living at all otherwise.
As I mentioned, my cousin Emily and my Grandma Jean have lost everything they own in a horrific house fire, if you'd like a good cause to donate to where no percentage will be skimmed for another purpose. Look around online, there are a lot of people out there who need help. Stop giving your hard earned money to organizations and start looking around for local people you know, or people you know online, who need help. And if you have a few extra dollars, donate to my cousin and my grandmother who spend their whole selves doing for others and donating their time to the cause of community.
Emily's blog, which I am super proud of her for, has
Emily's First Hand Account of the Fire
And here is
Emily and Gram's Gofundme Account
The outpouring of love and support from people we know has been astonishing. Sometimes it takes darkness to see the light.
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