Mama's Wake

This is about the people you meet at a wake. True story.

 

Mama’s Wake

Written by T. L. O’Neal

 

     When Mama passed away she had been in the hospital for three weeks, and it was all of a sudden. It was the dead of winter and we were covered in what had been an ice storm. As things would have it, our car was broke down too with a blown head gasket. I was in the process of fixing this bucket of bolts when the ice storm hit. 

 

    So I had to fix this car in the ice and cold with tears in my eyes to get my family to the wake. I couldn’t of got through this without my wife, kids and brothers. I don’t deal with stress very well; never have really, so my brothers handled all the arrangements.

 

   When there’s a funeral it always seems to bring out the strangest people at times. There are always family members that you can’t stand, or ones that you don’t have a clue about who in the hell they are. Plus the typical little old ladies’ delegation that always comes in droves with their funny little hats, strong perfume and clothes that smell of mothballs. Then you have the regulars that come just to visit and gossip, and they’re usually the same ones that always show-up at the homes too for a free meal. I bet their grocery bill for the year is hardly anything and their kitchen is always clean from lack of use. If it were up to me, I’d prefer to go to a restaurant than following around the dead. Not the “Grateful Dead” mind you, that’s a whole different group of people. Well, at Mama’s wake it wasn’t any different in this respect either.

 

   So this is my account on some of the goings on that I recall and what my brothers could. It was a stressful situation to say the least for all of us, but we got through it and the aftermath with each other’s support and the support of our spouses. To them I will always be grateful.

 

   The boys and I and our respected partners got in line and readied for the visiting hours as some call it to start. Luckily my nerves had steadied somewhat from crying the last two days, and a half of a tranquilizer didn’t hurt either. The line started to form and the people started coming on down the line. There were a lot of people I didn’t know, some I did, and some I just didn’t care to see at all.

 

   Everyone knows me for the most part because I always lived around here and I had a little fame as an artist in the area years ago. My brother Alan is the oldest, so a lot of people knew him too, but my younger brother Mark, it always seemed that most people didn’t know who he was. He always referred to himself as the forgotten one in a joking manner. So when it came to relatives he was the lucky one because they never knew who he was, it was better than a disguise.

 

   It always seemed that no matter where we went, the most frequent question asked of me and sometimes my brothers was if I’m the one that draws, paints or does artwork, well you get the idea. As the people started coming down the line you could hear it being asked, since I was the one last in line and the other two said no. It was a safe bet that the artsy hippie looking one was it. I bet I was asked that question thirty times or better. Now I know that in a situation like this that some people don’t know what to say except the standard I’m sorry and whatnot. I never knew what to say in those situations for that matter either. So I just took it all in stride and answered yes to these people as best that I could with a smile on my face. After a while of it I did get a little tickled and embarrassed at the question though.

 

    Mama’s preacher came down the line and spoke to my oldest brother and his wife first. With the customary handshake and the “I’m so sorry.” bit. Then he went to my younger brother and his wife who were next in line and did the same little spill. When he got to my wife and me, he turned on his heel and didn’t say a thing, just left. The way he turned so quickly on his heel, you would of thought that he had some Nazi training for sure. Maybe he didn’t like the longhair and earrings, or the fact that I was bipolar, I’m not even sure if he knew that or not. But that’s beside the point; there was no call to treat me or my family that way, especially under the circumstances. He snubbed my family and me at the funeral service and the gravesite too. I suspect that it wasn’t an oversight when it happened three times. Some people are just born a******s I guess; it’s an infliction on their soul.

 

    Maybe he didn’t read that part in the Bible about not judging yet, I couldn’t tell ya. But I suspect that he will be judged for that and a lot of other things when his time comes. It isn’t any wonder that I don’t have much use for organized religion. Don’t get me wrong; I have faith in God, science, and myself; just not much in people who claim to be this and that. If you have to go around claiming to be something, then more than likely you’re not. Because all you’re doing is just trying to convince yourself anyways.

 

    Well Dad did show up, believe it or not. I thought to myself, you know, maybe he will try to be a parent now after all these years. Boy was I ever wrong; he’s the poorest damn excuse for a parent I ever heard of. Around here you would call him a piss-poor father. All he wanted to do it seemed, was to find my deceased uncle’s wife. I know this because he asked me three times where the hell she was, and he did the same thing at the gravesite too. Now I don’t know why he was all hopped up on finding her, and to tell you the truth I really don’t want to know. But I do suspect it was to try to get permission to get back into my dead uncle’s pond, that’s what I’m keeping in my mind anyways. I really don’t want to know any different. After all this we saw even less of him, and at this point and time I haven’t talked to him since 11/04. And my brothers haven’t since early 05’ I think.

 

     That aunt I was talking about was something, nosey as can be and tough too. She would have bourbon and a little tap water for breakfast. All that hard living made her look pretty rough too; my brother always said she looked like an old shoe, without the laces of course. Just glad she wasn’t a blood relative; we have enough drunks on Dad’s side of the family anyways.

 

   Some old woman came up to me, must have been close to 90 years old or so and about 5 foot tall. That includes all the shrinking that occurred in all her years too. Anyhow, mind you I was clean-shaven at the time and had 6 earrings, all little hoops, plus I wore a collarless shirt with a large button cover and my suit. I was in line with my two brothers and their wives and me with mine at the time of course. When she came to me...and with her little old bony finger pointing at me, asked in a shaky voice if I was my brother to my left’s sister. So I replied in a manly voice, "Why yes, I am." Don't ask me why I said that, it was automatic and just typical of my smart-a*s mouth. She seemed a bit confused with that answer and left, so why ask the question anyways?

 

  Then came up Mama’s sister. We used to call her aunt Bush Ax, but of course not to her face. If it were more recent times, it probably would’ve been aunt Weedwacker, with all the technical advances and all you know. Anyway, that name sounds better but you have to work with what was relevant at the time. How that name came about was when we were kids; she, Grandma and Mama were all talking and she mentioned that she kept wearing out her gowns in the front.

 

Grandma asked, “Well, how do you keep doing that?”

 

My aunt replied, “ It’s because of all the hair.”

 

Grandma then said, “Well, why don’t you just trim it then.”

 

   Of course us kids were listening to all of this and being kids, we had to come up with some kind of a name to suit her. Mama told us not to say that but we could see that she thought it was funny too, because she could only hide her laughter so much.

 

    Now Mama’s sister was a smart one when it came to book smarts back in her day, but when it came to commonsense she was lacking quit a bit. She used to be a speechwriter for one of the governors back in the 50’s or 60’s. Whether he was ever re-elected or not, I couldn’t tell you. She never had kids or wanted any for that matter, so she never was too partial to any of us.

 

   Anyways, she was a bitter old gal and always seemed to be as long as I could remember. She kept her mouth drawled up so long and tight from that bitterness that all that tension put on her brain drove her as crazy as a loon. We probably hadn’t seen her in twenty years or better, and didn’t really care to either. So she came down the line with her husband and got to my older brother Alan first. She asked him who he was, believe it or not. Then next she said that she saw Mama walking around the day before. Now I can tell you one thing, if Mama was going to come down from heaven and show herself, it sure wouldn’t of been to her. But that wasn’t nothing compared to what she said to my younger brother next.

 

She said to him, “Guess how much I weight?”

 

   Now what the hell does that got to do with any damn thing is beyond me. I told you she was a bit off, ok, more than a bit. I don’t know if she thought he was one of those weight guessers at the state fair or what, not that he looked like one mind you. He was much better dressed and has all his teeth. We never had any carnie folk in our family that I can recall, thank God. So when she got to me she said that she was my aunt so and so.

 

I said, “I know.” In one of those I don’t give a rat’s a*s tones and I didn’t either.

 

   She isn’t one of my most favorite people in the world as you can probably tell. I could go through a cat’s 9 lives without seeing her and it still would have been too soon. Why and the hell couldn’t she of given me a line like she did the other two boys for I would of had something to work with? I could of come up with a quick comeback too, just my damn luck.

 

   Her husband was a bit of an odd one too; he had to be… living with her after all those years, the poor b*****d. He was giving out business cards to my kids, but I don’t think they were in any need of a résumé service at the time or anytime in the near future either. At least I don’t think so. He was giving them dollars too and telling them to buy something nice with it for some reason or other. And besides that, what in the world are you going to buy nice for a dollar? I guess I should of took them all down to the local Dollar Tree for a shopping spree and let them run wild for a spell.

 

    I never could understand to save my life why those people that don’t really give a damn or care to even talk to you, are the ones that always shows up to these things. They don’t just show up, they make a damn production out of it. Pardon my language but I could care less for those b******s and I know where they all can go too. If you can’t be real in life, then why be a phony in a time of death.

 

    There was this one woman that I just couldn’t stand, who was a friend of Mama’s. Now my kids were doing fine and she goes over there to talk to them. They were sitting over to the side and holding themselves together rather well and minding their own business. Next thing I know she had all of those kids squalling, and I mean squalling. This upset me to no end, so I went over there and asked her to please leave them be. She left and the kids settled down a bit and the next thing I knew they were pure squalling again. Yep, it was her again and it seemed she didn’t get the message the first time it was delivered. We all were under enough stress as it was, but cornering my kids again and making them cry, well that was too blame much for me to handle. I told her in no uncertain terms to leave my kids alone and stay the hell away from them from now on. They were all upset, but the youngest one was a pure nervous wreck.

 

   There was this other woman that I knew from school wearing a fuzzy sweater. Now my wife being 12 years younger than me at the time and still is I guess, well, she went through her teen years in the 80’s and said that sweater was from that particular period in time. Why she cared I couldn’t say, but anyhow she was a bone-a-fide expert on the 80’s. At least I thought she was, because that was all I ever heard about; the music, hair, fashion, etc. She knew her stuff though about it, but she always acted like it was a foreign concept to me. I lived through it too you know; hell I was a product of the 70’s in my teen years. I was in my 20’s at that time in the 80’s and I’m pretty sure I lived it a little more than she ever did. Anyways, she just kept talking about that damn sweater. She did also say fuzzy sweaters and greasy hair weren’t appropriate for a wake, I would have to agree with her on this point. But I didn’t notice anything special one way or the other about that sweater except for the fact that it was fuzzy.

 

   There were a lot of interesting and strange people there, but under the circumstances this is about all that I can remember. A lot of the time we were just on automatic and going through the motions. We saw a lot of people and spoke the regular things that are said, but for the most part…I just don’t remember everything about it.

 

     Well, nine o’clock finally arrived and it was over. I think we were all relieved from having to deal with everyone and standing inline for two hours. We all went and saw Mama one last time and said our goodbyes too. I rubbed her hand and kissed her on the forehead, never to see her face again.

 

   This was very hard for everyone to get through and I just would like to thank my brothers and their families, and my wife at the time and kids for their support with helping me to deal with this. I couldn’t of gotten through it all without them.

 

    Mama was a good woman, honest and fair. She had it pretty rough in life; Dad didn’t help in that respect either. Actually he was the majority of the problem or caused the biggest part of it. Anyhow, she had to play the role as mother and father, and did a rather decent job of it with what she had to work with. We all turned out rather well, but of course she had a hard time understanding me, hell I don’t even understand me to this day. But that’s beside the point; the point is that she was well loved by family, church, and community. And in my book that says it all.

 

 

Reviews

[Maria G.]

Althought this was a sad story of the passing of a relative, not just a relative but your mother, you managed to tell a great story without too much sentiment. Loved your description of some of the characters at the wake and how the oddest people turn up, so true.
I was also disgusted along with you at the treatment you were shown by a supposedly 'man of the cloth' as we say here, it kind of puzzled me why he acted that way, but it take's all sorts.
Thankyou for sharing this piece of your life, i hope writing this helped your grief.
Sorry it took so long to review your work, i will be reading more.

[Donna Jones]

Your mother was a wonderful woman. I know that all of you were very proud of her and the commitment and sacrificies that she made for you all...Thanks for sharing a difficult time in your life...

[LizLadyNinja]

This is a very intersting story. I just burried my brother a month ago, so I know the feeling. We had people I didn't know at the funeral, but none of them were over 60. I don't think anyway. And the most annoying thing I think, for a person to say at a funeral is "I'm Sorry". It gets so tiring after everyone and their brothers uncles nephews dog has said it. Bleh, a more appropriate question would be "How are you doing?" That opens for conversation and it a fairly easy question to answer.

Anyway I found a bit of this humerious, and most of it I just sat here and nodded. Man have you hit the mix of emotions right on the head. You want a doozy of a story about Priests. I'm not Catholic, but my boyfriend is. The day my brother was killed was a Sunday. So my boyfriend was at church. Now you would think that a young woman pushing through a crowd of "christians" to get INTO the church would spark some interest and some one would have asked if I was okay, but NO. Not one single "christian" stopped to see if I was okay. I could have been bleeding to death and it would have been on their shoulders. So the whole part with the priest doesn't suprise me. Sometimes you gotta' question that.

Over all, I don't think this is the kind of writing that one should nit-pick, so I'm not going to really point anything out. I am going to tell you that I completely understand this piece. And it was a pretty fun read in parts. Funerals do bring out the best in some and the worst in others. Thanks for telling a story, a very emotional story, in such a humorious manner.

Cheers
Liz

[Carole]

T.L.: Thanks for the write. This was a nice mix of emotions. I really enjoyed this because you took a serious ocassion and made it some what comical. I am disturbed that the Pastor treated you as he did (with the whole judgment thing) but then again, I know there's plenty of that. Sad, but true. When are people going to get that the outward appearance really isn't an issue with God in comparison to the condition of some people's hearts? I suspect he will face some judgment for that treatment as well. Anyway, enjoyed reading this.

[Kira Love]

After just going through this with, first my mother-in-law, then my aunt, I can SO feel this... My aunt had a graveside service and as people approached the plot, I kept saying to myself "WHO the HELL is THIS???" My father-in-law had the SAME exact thought you did... you couldn't be real in life, why be fake in death? That memorial was open to immediate family only... the only one's who really cared.
I saved this story for last. Why? Because regardless of the "atmosphere", you always tell a fantastic story. I always look foward to reading your work (and I always do, just not always able to comment) and this is no exception. Thank you for sharing this, and I did save the best for last...

[Adam Greenfield]

T, you told a very difficult story very well. My mother fortunately is still alive so I can't imagine what it must've felt like (and probably still feels like). To handle all those strange people (especially the a*****e minister) took some strength that I wish I could possess. I hope writing this piece helped you through that difficult situation.

[Krystal Waters]

People act so differently when they are at a funeral. Your mom must have been very much loved to have all those people come and pay their last respects. Your family sounds a little off, but I think we all have family members who are that way! I enjoyed reading this story... learned a lot about your family and your brothers and sister... kids and aunts, uncles... A nice tribute to your mother I am sure you still miss.

Krystal

[Pamela]

This is wonderful. It's so refreshing to read something so original.

An horrendous day both sad and absurd. You've told the story so well.

Through it all the love for your mother has shone through, after all it was Her day. Your final goodbye to her was so poignant. I look forward to reading more of your work.

[Sabrina]

Aww. How sad...about mama passing. My grandfather passed about two years ago and i still haven't got over it. it is a good story. :-)

[Narnie]

Hey Mr O Neal... an insightful review of what must have been a very hard day. It's interesting how you focussed on the participants and I couldnt figure out whether that was a way of keeping yourself together or compunding the sorrow. Hell - the reverand was an arse ... check out my blog for my feelings on devout 'christians' of this kind. Although this story had humorous moments, I felt your weariness with the task you had to undertake. Excellent writing - your mom would be proud.

[David P. Eckert]

Times like deaths and wakes, when it's someone close, are so hard to write about since when we're going through it we're not always at our most focused. You did a solid job with the help of your brothers from what you say, in pulling together a lot of memories from that time. You caught a lot of the things people do in those situations - from hypocrisy to to pure lack of judgment. Nicely done.

David