Back 4 The Halloween Funeral

Author: Audacity

So, where have I been exactly?

Everywhere. And am so much worse for the wear.

But in honor of All Hallows Eve, I’m dropping by to bring some tricks and treats, and tidings of funerals that went pear shaped and completely fucked while also twisting my conceptual understanding of grief making me feel my own mortality in an abnormally abhorrent way as I’m now still trying to come to terms with being a parentless only child orphan.

You know, just a little lite reading.
And the reading of wills that broke my will to contest the will.

Because my fantastically insane fanatically religious now dead and buried mother left everything, EVERYTHING, to her Pentecostal church group (cult); including my dead grandmother’s piano, that had been HER mothers, that is now nearly 200 hundred years old; and is the piano I learned to play on as a small child.

Ok, hold on, teared a bit. Which is rare for me. But that piano was so special to me. God damn my dead bitch of a mother. God damn her right to a hell full of lesbians that all refuse to go down on her because she was a Christian scumbag who disowned her own pansexual daughter for eating pussy but NEVER ONCE APOLOGIZED OR LOOKED IN THE MIRROR AND EXAMINED HERSELF FOR KIDNAPPING HER OWN DAUGHTER FROM HER FATHER ONCE AND ALSO FORCING HER 10 YR OLD DAUGHTER TO LIVE IN A CULT WITH HER ONCE AND ALLOWING HER DAUGHTER TO BE MO…No. Stop.

I’m not talking about that right now.
I’ll tell you all about that at another time.

Ok, ok *deep breath*. I’ve turned my teariness back into rage now. Let’s continue.

It rained for three days and three nights leading up to my mother’s funeral and burial. Which is so fucking applicable to describe my entire fucking life having the mother I did. Just rain, gloom, and tomb.

Then the pastor of her church did her eulogy. And it was as fucked as I knew it would be. With shit like:

We should rejoice because she was a true woman of god, she’s deservedly in heaven now, which would make crying over her death a sin, and (while looking directly at me and my same sex female fiancé said) “it’s not too late to turn away from sin and come back to god”, and BLAH BLAH fucking BLAH 🤮

Alas, he admonished me and refused to allow me to speak at the funeral. Probably because he suspected I’d tell all of her cult..I mean CHURCH…people there just what a despicable piece of shit she really was…spill all her dirty secrets and open her closet doors to let all the skeletons within get a little vitamin D sunlight despite the rain…and his suspicions were 100% correct. I would have done that shit in a second.

But alas, his god must of told him “it would be a big mistake to let her speak, asshole” and so he forbade me from grabbing the microphone and putting on a full “speak ill of the dead” performance encore mic drop that would have brought the house down…on all their Pentecostal heads.

Then we went out into the rain to burry her in the family plot. My wonderful father specifically left in his will that she not be allowed into the actual family mausoleum where he is now…but he DID consent for her to have a burial plot in the family cemetery allotment cause she was the mother of his only child (yeah, that’s me). Cause he was an actual good person.

And the ground was REALLY muddy. Which made me chuckle cause the pastor stepped in a lot of it, ruining his cheap black dress shoes and muddying up his black dress pants nearly to the knee. And the pallbearers -assholes from her church including a young, blond one with strong arms and a nice, Jesus filled ass, who’d looked at my tits a couple times, then quickly away (sin, looking at her sinful daughters sinfully nice tits in that sinful black dress and imaging her and her beautiful girlfriend sinfully going down on each other is a SIN!)- slipped around a bit while holding and carrying her casket…which made me silently chuckle and chant in my head “drop her, drop her, drop her” with devilish glee. Which made me think it was my deceased Dad that had actually made it rain. And somewhere he was chuckling along with me and also chanting “drop her, drops her, drop her” 😂. We were always so much alike.

But alas they held on. Even sinful blondy with his strong arms and Jesus filled ass. His strong arms and ass are probably what saved the day, actually, from turning into a steeple chase to catch my Mom’s body as it tumble rolled out of the casket into the muddy rain, because they had lost their grip on the casket; with my Mom’s body (and them) ending up topsy turvy sideways.

But alas, blondy and his muscles (sadly) kept things from going in that direction.

Then as we all stood around with black umbrellas and some bitch I’d never seen before was crying (sin, crying over this is a SIN!) they lowered her into the water logged hole.

And very unexpectedly, I felt a twinge of a tear. A TWINGE mind you. Not for her. Of course not. She’d been dead to me for years now. But for ME.

Because all of a sudden I was struck with a dump truck of a thought-“Both my parents are dead now. I have no siblings and I am the last of my line. And when I die, it will disappear. Like it never existed. Like I never existed”.

And in that moment, as they lowered her down, I’d never felt so alone.

Even with my girl holding the umbrella over us both and holding my hand. I felt alone in a different way than I’d ever felt before. Alone in my bloodline. Alone in a family that had no more additional immediate members.

Hearing the pallbearers’ shoveled mud slop on top of her casket, I suddenly felt my stomach turn, and I nearly hurled. It was unexplainable in the moment, because my stomach was empty and I hadn’t even eaten that day yet.

But it wasn’t because of something I ate. It was existential emotion sickness churning my stomach.

So I whispered to my love “I’ve got to get the fuck out of here”. She low whispered back “what about the repass”. Which I in turn whispered back “fuck the repass”.

And with that we were speed walking in our heels on cobbles in the rain, heading back towards our black SUV. The rain pounding on the umbrella now.

Then as we nearly reached the car, I darted sideways, and through up hot, sour bile mixed with coffee in the grass by a tree. And proceeded with getting completely soaked as I did so, cause I’d jerked out from the safety of the umbrella my soon to be wife had hanging over us, to throw up behind said tree.

A beautiful old silver birch with its’ white trunk, and tiny silver white and green leaves that did little to block the rain.

But in that moment I thoroughly did not fucking care if I was getting soaked.

Except I was wearing my vintage black velvet LVT heels, and as I realized later, they pretty much got ruined under that birch tree. Thanks a lot mom. Then again you’ve ruined so much in my life that it’s very fitting for your funeral to ruin my shoes too. You fucking bi…sorry. I’m still trying to work through the anger stage of my grief.

After all, I’ve only been stuck in this anger stage for about 25 years or so now, and grief is a process. So DON’T JUDGE ME! IT IS A PROCESS! 😂

V (that’s my love), caught up and held the umbrella over my bent, drenched back and head, and slowly said “shhh it’s ok” and patted my wet back.

Then we made our way over to our vehicle. And after getting me two towels and a bottle of water (which I used to swish out my moth and spit into a puddle, watching it swirl) from our bag in the back and wrapping me in the towels (leather seats in this car of course, and I refuse to fuck them up), we got in the car. She was driving, thank Goddess.

“What happened back there?” V asked me.

After a beat. I replied “it all just got to me. Made me feel my mortality,…and how I’m the last, living direct descendant of my family”.

Another beat…then I blurted out a free form rando thought:

“I guess I also realized that any chance of my mom and I ever making up is honestly gone now…right? We will never make up now…right? I’ll never get the “sorry” from her now, right?” I couldn’t stop saying “right” for some reason.

That’s all I had to say though; cause V knew and knows the “sorry”, all of the deserved and needed “sorries” from my mother that I never got, all those “sorries”, of which I speak.

Then V said something that really exemplifies why I love her so much:

“No. You won’t. But you got to bury her. You said good bye to her. So maybe you can say good bye to them too…maybe that, that need, can be laid to rest now too? Maybe you can and will forgive her someday, maybe you won’t. Either way and anyway, she’s dead, you’re not…so…you won”.

I cannot wait to MARRY. THIS. WOMAN.

“And I’ll always be your family”. And with that, she started the car.

I love you V. As twisted and fucked up as I am, I honestly love you.

Happy Halloween All.

Epitaph:

RIP Mom. You were the only blood related Mother I’ve ever had. So, for that, despite your flaws and all the things you did to wrong me, I love you anyway. Maybe you learned something from your mistakes in this life. Maybe you didn’t. Maybe you’ll do better in your next life. Maybe you won’t.

Either way, I hope we never run into each other again.

P. S. Dear Constant Gentle Reader:
I won’t be fully back here for a bit still. But just wanted to drop by and say “hi” for Halloween. And fill you all in on my shit Mother’s shit funeral.

Ok. Eat a lot of candy. And turn some tricks. Peace out peeps.