i just have to get this out; sorry it's a downer...

I don't do well at funerals. Family ones are the hardest, obviously, but what makes those even worse is the fact that my dad doesn't do well at funerals either. NOT AT ALL. And seeing my dad, a 6'2", 200-something pound, intimidating-looking, grown man be reduced to sobs, is one of the hardest things for me to deal with.

Today was hard, as I knew it would be. I didn't want to get out of bed this morning, and I didn't want to go the funeral at all, but having been asked by my cousin Pat to read the petitions ("Would you mind doing that? Mom would have really loved for you to do it..."), I couldn't make up an excuse to save face. It was selfish of me to even think that way, I know, but I felt the same when Bubba, grandpa, grandma, etc. died. Nobody likes funeral, I know, but I find it difficult to cry in public sometimes, to top it off.

The mass at the funeral home was nice, although they played the 2 songs I knew they would, but didn't want them to: "Ave Maria" and "On Eagles' Wings". It never fails. But, they are to be expected, as they are generally seen as funeral songs. I lost it. I don't know how my father was able to handle being a pallbearer, but I'm incredibly proud of him and admire his strength.
At the church, the priest was excellent--he tied in his sermon about Annie with baseball. He began by talking about Sutter's upcoming into the baseball Hall of Fame, then said that Annie is getting an even better Hall of Fame placement--in Heaven. I went up at the wrong time to read the petitions; at first I was embarrassed, but then I smiled, knowing Annie's unconventional humor would have made her giggle at the faux pas.

After the interment (?) at Resurrection Cemetery, we were all invited to go to Growler's Pub for food and drink. I love my family: instead of mourning a family member's death, they do what I think ought to be done: they celebrate their life. Annie lived a good, long, fulfilling life, and never met a stranger. She had incredible strength, saw her husband through some very hard times, and created memories for herself, her family, and her friends. It may seem odd to some people, but toasting Annie with a beer is exactly what she would have wanted us to do. She was quite the beer drinker, back in the day, and even continued having one or two a day up into her old age.

I could go on and on, telling stories about the original "crazy old lady" (on the Tunnicliff side, anyway), but this post would be much longer than it already is. As weird as it may be, I'm in a very peaceful mood right now and write this with a smile. I know Annie is where it's right for her to be now--with her husband and family members who have gone before. Grandpa and Uncle Art look as they did in the prime of their lives, as do grandma and Aunt Annie; the boys are telling the girls to behave, while the girls are standing with one arm around each other's shoulders, a beer in other hand, legs extended in a high kick, and huge smiles on their faces.