Rec | MAKING THE MOST OF A FUNERAL

🪦

My nana died recently and the funeral was probably the best day out of a terrible few weeks I enjoyed the (sometimes farcical) performance of the Catholic ceremony, which was so disconnected from her life and personhood that you kind of had to laugh (i did this inwardly only). The priest got my granddad’s name wrong in the reading and half-sang along to the hymns as he performed the rites, the way you do when you’re listening to music while pottering about the house I talked with family I hadn’t seen in years, or had seen and pretty much ignored because it felt easier at the time I enjoyed noticing how there are maybe two different kinds of nose and mouth distributed among the cousins (myself included), except one girl I was convinced was a relative on the strength of her appearance turned out not to be, so maybe I was just looking for shared qualities where there aren’t any. I don’t think that is a bad thing though

@2666

Nov 4, 2024

see likes

Comments (0)

Make an account to reply.

No comments yet

Related Recs

🌄

Accepting that life is strange and thats the beauty of it

My cousin died a few months ago and him passing was the first time I realized that life is so unpredictable and weird. I had just saw him for the first time in 6 years during christmas time. He was him, the same funny smart ass that made everyone in the room laugh. He talked about how he loved nature at length, We talked about heading up north and camping because he has never been to Northern California and I knew he would love it up there. I say all this to say that I never thought I would have to see my cousin pass before me. I thought we would get old, have some kids and see each other every few years and just laugh about how crazy we were as kids. I’m just so happy I had those 3 hours with him, seeing him go on and on about how he loved nature, watching him have hope for the future, loving life to the fullest. When I struggle to get through the minor inconveniences of life, I think about my cousins smile as he talked about nature. I think about how you should just love being alive and take it all in. How lucky I am to be one in a million. Life is very very strange, but bruh is it not beautiful.

@ion_know_

Jun 18, 2024

🏡

My grandparents’ house, Despite the horrors I’ve written about in the story pinned to my profile

I have a lot of terrible memories that took place there but there are also beautiful memories. they had a comfortable warm and inviting home in the country and in the moments where I wasn’t being confronted with my family dysfunction I felt so normal. They called the bedroom my sister and I would stay in the princess room; it had two twin beds and a huge collection of VHS tapes, board games, and vintage children’s books. When I grew up my boyfriend and I got to stay in the one of the grownup rooms with en suite bathroom, pictured, which was a defining moment for me. I loved waking up before everybody, making coffee in the sun room, sitting there and reading the Dallas Morning News looking out into the garden. My grandfather sold the house before we had our falling-out and they’ve since passed so I couldn’t go back even if I wanted to. — I would also say my paternal grandfather's house, which sat on a huge tract of land with pecan and pomegranate trees which we would pick up off of the ground. An irrigation dam ran behind it. In the winter, I would stomp on the cracked dry earth to break it beneath my feet, and shatter the ice that would form in the bird bath. The walls were lined with my great grandmother’s pastel art from when she went to finishing school and my grandmother’s embroidery pieces. There was a wood paneled library with smoke-stained classic books, many of which I have with me today. My dad and his brother had a play room painted in primary color blue, yellow, and red, and my sister and I could play with all of their old toys and look at their old books. My grandmothers glass shoe and bell connection as well as her vanity set had all been left exactly as they were and I would admire them every time we visited. She died before I was born but I always felt a strong connection to her and I would love to have space to display her collections someday! And I adored my grandfather who had been so prickly with my father and his brother but was so sweet to me. He would always give me porcelain dolls he bought on QVC. his house smelled like rotten bananas because he would buy them and forget to eat them. He died when I was about six years old and I said why couldn’t it have been my other grandfather that died (lol). I miss him a lot and I think he would be proud of me! 🫶 — Oh and my mom‘s dead gay best friend Jackie’s house which he shared with his partner Aaron, a sculptor who was close friends with Cormac McCarthy. I learned everything about sophistication in decor from them and their house was my favorite place on earth. He would have a huge Christmas party every year and go BALLS TO THE WALL DECORATING; other professors from the university and artists would hobnob and I would eat inappropriately too many hors d’oeuvres (he would get all of his charcuterie and shrimp cocktail from COSTCO). His kitchen had black and white checker board floors with cherry red accents and Betty Boop decor. I miss him so much too!!!

@taterhole

Jul 18, 2024

♥️

Labours of love

I went to a funeral today. My artist godfather had painted the entire coffin of his wife, vibrantly, with hearts and birds and colours. The thought of him painting it, the expression of his love to his partner of 33 years, using the same motifs he used to paint their wedding altar, it makes me want to think of ways to show love, to mark it. Both while my loved ones are still living, and to honour those now gone. How do we honour our love? Dedicate time to it? Make our grief a beautiful masterpiece of love?