My return from vacation was not uneventful. Neph was still here when we arrived and NGF (new girlfriend) arrived soon after. They stayed until sometime Saturday, during which time Neph learned that his 90-year-old grandmother had passed away. But, before we get to that, I would like to mention that he prepared some sort of pollyanna of scrambled egg-ground turkey-taco-dip type creation for … breakfast? Served in a big bowl with tortilla chips. NGF said it’s actually good, in spite of how it looks. Uh huh, enjoy.

The burial and service was Tuesday. To clarify, this was my sister-out-law’s (SOL) mother who passed away. I don’t have much to memorialize about her, as I didn’t really know her other than from Nephtoo’s bar mitzvah and when we visited Nephtoo at summer camp as a group. She stood tall and regal like a queen and was always kind and welcoming to me – the outsider. I later learned that she was a bit of a grammar nazi (probably wrong choice of words and my sincerest apologies to the family) and that she had a sharp wit and discerning affinity for literary pursuits. I have a feeling we might have enjoyed more interactions, had circumstances been different.

SOL, Nephtoo, and Neph descended on our house Monday night, as we live closer to the venue than they do. Nephtoo and I sat up late drinking cocktails and talking about death with dignity and annoying, overused phrases such as “being in your space.” I think we have differing opinions on the latter. We talked about his future plans and his partner who speaks Cantonese will absolutely NOT teach him the language because the intonations vary so starkly that he could potentially accidentally call someone a pussy instead of simply saying hello. (This is no gross exaggeration. I have heard the two ways to say the same words.)

The morning was a whirlwind, as I was only charged with ensuring SOL did not forget her speech and roughly 30 minutes before our scheduled departure absolutely NO ONE was awake and dressed. I woke Neph and told him he was in charge. Nephtoo and SOL left shortly after 8:30 and Neph and I followed about fifteen minutes later because he was still cooking breakfast.

As the forecast called for temps above 100, the burial was to be first at 10 a.m., followed by the memorial at 11 and luncheon at 12:30. Neph and I got stuck behind an accident on I-95 and were fifteen minutes late for the burial, which they held for [our] arrival. It was an intimate gathering by the grave. I stood at the edge of the tent and listened intently to the Rabbi, my skin slick with perspiration. A gentle breeze passing over us periodically gave me goosebumps.

SOL interrupted Rabbi mid-sentence to inquire as to the whereabouts of the headstone, a legitimate concern if one does not want their loved one resting for eternity in the wrong place and next to the wrong husband. Spoiler: it was simply moved aside for the burial. She stepped back to verify and stumbled on a large clump of earth and I thought, this is it – she’s going down on her ass at her mother’s funeral.

The Rabbi spoke with an unaccustomed (for me) gentleness (Bible-wielding ministers always seem to speak more forcefully), apologizing for the sound we were about to hear. I’ve never been to a funeral where shovels of dirt are thrown over the casket by the funeral goers.* Each person (thankfully, only those who chose to do so) shoveled three times. It was, for sure, an unnerving sound. The Christians’ handful of dirt hardly hits as deeply in the chest.

Everyone quickly departed for the memorial afterward, except for SOL, Nephtoo, Neph, and I – as Neph decided to go shovel some more dirt for reasons known only to him despite our collective sweating. The three of us stood in the shade at the edge of the sidewalk, surrounded by trees and elaborately beautiful headstones.

Nephtoo surveyed the cemetary, his sigh breaking the silence, and he said, “wow. There’s a lot of dead Jews here.” SOL glared at him, the Jewish mom’s equivalent to the Italian look of death (again, my apologies for choice of words) that actually translates as something akin to disappointment in one’s very existence.

The memorial took place in the common room of the home where she lived.  Chairs were arranged facing the podium but of course there weren’t enough chairs. Again, I stood in the back, trying and failing to be inconspicuous in the most matronly dress I own. (So chosen to appropriately cover most of my tattoo* and not be too clingy on a hot day.)

Residents shimmied in on their wheelchairs like curious onlookers, likely looking for something to do out of an ordinary Tuesday. Two staffers offered me a folding chair and I insisted I was fine to stand, and then the third guy brought me a chair and pointed to it. Neph went missing for a while and missed the beginning of the service. Then one of the wheelchair residents’ phone kept ringing, loudly. Like a geriatric drug dealer. He’d snap open this candy-apple-red flip phone to stop it and 30 seconds later it would ring again.

Nephtoo was standing along the wall and we kept looking at each other what-the-fuckedly. Then Neph reappeared in the back hallway in a black wife-beater, his long hair flowing behind him, toweling himself off, and at this point I’M feeling like the mom who wants to knock some blocks off. He did put his polo shirt back on before he entered the room.

So despite hearing-enhancers* I still struggled to hear every single person who spoke that does not know how to use a mic. I heard the Rabbi loud and clear though as he named the four grandchildren: Jane, John, Neph, and “Jacob” (NOT Nephtoo’s name). Cue facepalm. Someone corrected him but he seemed to sail right through without missing a beat.

A buffet luncheon was planned at a popular nearby restaurant I happen to love, and again we were the last to arrive. So much for inconspicuousness. But Neph just enters any room like he owns it, so there’s that. Open bar and Nephtoo ordered a G & T because they didn’t have whatever else he wanted. I walked to the last table in the back that was empty and sat down. Jane made eye contact from her table and got up to come talk to me. She is beautiful and kind and thanked me for coming.

The boys sat with me and sniveled about family drama, laughed over memories, and speculated on what pool the Rabbi swims in. Nephtoo waved that one off. Neph lamented why his uncle is so dark.

Me: Well, he does live in Florida now.

Neph: No, his skin tone is darker. And [cousin’s] skin tone is darker. AND Uncle Todd’s skin tone is darker. Meanwhile, I get stuck with pasty white skin from both sides. (mom and dad are both beyond pale).

Nephtoo: I just always thought all uncles looked like that. Dark skin, must be an uncle.

Now the three of us are busting up laughing which was NOT exactly inconspicuous. Soon the cousins decided to do a shot together and now Nephtoo is lit and giggling naughtily.

In conclusion, I have to say that the day – though heavy with emotion and oppressive heat – was not one I wished the entire time would be over. There have been many things I have attended both with and without Todd that I couldn’t wait to leave. I realized at some point, listening to the boys regaling each other (and me) with stories of drunken college adventures, that it was nearly 3:00. I hadn’t been itching to leave since we arrived, though at that moment I also realized I did not want to get caught in traffic that begins at 4 in my area.

*****

Miscellaneous

Shoveling dirt, referred to as “filling the grave” : a tradition by which people participate in the burying of their loved one, to honor them and to say goodbye.

Jewish people hold to the principle that the body should not be cut or decorated (tattooed), as dictated in Leviticus. I did not want to go sleeveless and draw more attention/judgement to myself.

One of the things that apparently drove SOL’s mother nuts was people putting a comma outside of the quotes, instead of within the quotes. The difference being “I believe you,” he said, versus “I believe you”, he said. That would make me nuts too.

HOWEVER, this English major learned something new: the British way is to place commas and periods outside of the quotes unless they are part of the quote. I might’ve have seen this done in my many years studying Brit Lit but never once took notice.

Hearing enhancers are exactly what you think they are and more on that at another time.