I must say, for a funeral, the funeral I attended today was lovely. I never met the guy, but he seems to have been very well liked. The service was Catholic, it was in the Church, it involved sitting, standing, kneeling, communion, singing and potentially heat stroke. Can you get heat stroke from being trapped inside a suffocatingly hot Church?
It was quite the experience for me though. From what I’ve been able to gather, there were about five vitally important families there that I am somehow related to. I never remember how. I was introduced to more people than I’ve ever been introduced to in my life. And it’s not just your classic “This is my granddaughter Lauren”. It’s more along the lines of: “This is Lauren Daily, my granddaughter, daughter of my youngest daughter”. Because apparently it’s important to provide people with at least three generations of your family tree. Otherwise, one cannot be acknowledged properly.
I always thought this, but I never really had proof outside my immediate circle of people. Now I have proof. French people are really snobby about their last names. Hence the importance of the five families. As you may have noticed, my name is not French. After the “daughter of my daughter bit” my grandma would add, “her father is an Anglophone”. The way she’d say it kind of reminded me of something along the lines of “her father has an incurable disease. She may have it too”. Thankfully, she would always add “but she’s a Francophone” THERE’S A CURE FOR MY DISEASE! Thank God!
There’s a whole world of religion based humour that I’m not entirely comfortable voicing. But in my head, it’s hilarious. I think we can take those thoughts, my lesbianism and the fact that I shook hands with several nuns and priests as evidence that God is all forgiving. So there you go religious zealots. God is all forgiving, not vengeful and scary. And that's only if you consider homosexuality a sin, which I obviously don't. If you're of my mind, then it's evidence that God loves love and doesn't care how it is expressed. So meh!
Hmmm... what else? My grandma had me drive on the way back home. Her car is far less responsive than the one I usually drive but I managed. I only got nervous a few times. Her cruise control got quite a work out. Of course, because I was driving and she was no longer concentrating, my grandma noticed how quiet the car was. I got to listen to Engelbert Humperdinck (which I think is a really unfortunate name) and really old Roger Whittaker on the way back. Uh... not exactly a highlight for me. All things considered though, not all that bad. Besides, it was amusing watching my grandma point to each house and announce which family used to live there.
When I got home, I promptly fell asleep on the couch. Naps are good. Always good to know I can outlast my grandma energy wise...
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