Into paradise...may the angels...lead you

Passengers aboard Flight 021907, today one of the great was laid to rest, and in this case, it was my Grams, finalizing an exhausting past 6 days. I cried less than I had thought I might, and remembered more names in the receiving line than I had thought I might as well. But these two positive points aside, I know the real gravity of what took place today has yet to hit me, will find me a semana from now, or four and a half months, or years into the future when I birth my first child and she isn't there to see her great-grandchild, something she had always hoped for, which her eldest granddaughter had not produced for her, and myself in my whack job of an almost three year marriage had basically refused to do, as the prospect of a few things kept me from wanting to mother... 1.) The potential that I could (even though the chance was slim to none, just watch the south park episode on gingers) produce a red-headed baby, 2.) The potential of gaining weight that would take who knows how long or what type of surgical procedure to remove, 3.) The potential that it is a serious possibility that when I have a child that I could literally sleep through his/her cries, and 4.) I'm still selfish and immature. There you have it, sorry Grams. But it is with thoughts such as these, that I realize, that it isn't in death (or at least the point one draws his/her final breath) that a person is truly lost on those who live, but much further down the road, in jagged pieces, like during birthdays, and holidays, and the moments when I finally succeed and want to call her and can't. I will miss her more than now at these times, and have to sit Indian-style in front of a piece of rock and babble aimlessly about finally graduating from college, or being in love again, or getting my life right with God, fists crushing inadequate flowers that will either blow away or be run over by the crazy graveyard groundskeeper, these are the moments that will jar me, not so much today. But regardless, today's services were tremendous, it was standing room only, the room so full of love one could drown in it. And so, in honor of the enormity of today, I dedicate tonite's 60-40 to this am/afternoon's proceedings.

1. Good- I did sing, for Grams, with no music, as heartfelt a rendition of "His Eye is on the Sparrow" that I could muster, although my nose was clogged and my intestines were so curled up within me that I wanted to vomit.
2. Good- A crazy guy (who I'm convinced was a funeral crasher) started the visitation's receiving line off right when he walked by my sister and I and shook my hand stating "Your GRANDFATHER was a great person." I kept my composure for literally five seconds and then turned to my right toward my brother and absolutely lost it.
3. Bad- Even though we were in a tent at the graveside with some lame ass excuse for a space heater in it, the cold air from outside still penetrated the tarp and caused my first 3 toes on each foot (my fault partially because I wore peep-toe stilettos and a pencil skirt) to start to hurt so bad I had to do deep breathing/meditation exercises when my dad was speaking, like "Ohhhhhmmmm, you're in Turks and Caicos....Ohhhhhmmmmm, the summer sun is washing over you like a hot pocket."
4. Good- My friends Z and the Pilot as referenced yesterday came to show their support of me at the visitation.
5. Bad- Red, the ex, got muyyyy enojado because the Pilot (who he referred to as Clive Owen) gave me a best friend extended hug that he felt was questionable. But Red, honestly? Even though we have the best divorce of all time, we're still divorced. Remember that.
6. Bad- I went up to touch Gram's casket at the graveside and between my shoe choice and the spongy ground I almost face planted into it as I got thrown forward, and because I didn't want to turn around to see if anybody saw me, I tried to make it seem like I just might have planned the trip, and kinda laid my arm out in front of me and whispered a bunch of stuff to her. Muy loca.
7. Good- I managed to channel Audrey Hepburn for today's que pasoings, huge sunglasses, Burberry scarf, pencil skirt and button down, 4-in heels, and black trench. Dress, dressing is a habit, get like me.
8. Good- A random, sort-of estranged family member of mine referenced my blog in the receiving line, saying she knew Grams was proud of me despite my insecurities in my first post. How did she even know? Dear Lord.
9. Bad/Push- At the food get-together after the burial, someone made a macaroni dish that tasted like cheese going in initially, but had the finish of a slightly burnt pancake with a hint of maple syrup. And I have like 4 people that will vouch for this. And I kept eating it.
10. Good- Daddy delivered the message at his own mom's funeral and I was amazed by his composure and stamina up there. There you go Grams, be proud, b/c your son, my father, is a great, great man.

Signing off out of physical and emotional exhaustion. Xoxo to all, and to all a good nite.