My least favorite question of all time, “So you gonna have another one?” slipped right out of my uncle’s mouth, right there in the church’s basement post-funeral. Internally, I cringed as I saw the hopeful anticipation in his and his wife’s eyes, waiting for my response. “Not happening,” I said, and I could practically see their internally combusting balloons deflating.
Thankfully, my uncle has always been a good sport. He’s taken me on exhilarating sea-doo rides at SeaFair, gone on bike adventures, and brought our family back boxes of delectable crab from Alaska to fill our freezer (after all, he is a crab fisherman). Sure, decades have passed since those adventures, but the warm glow of nostalgia softened the blow of his prying question. But then again, why not return the favor? “How about you two?” I quipped, my eyes blinking in playful curiosity. He chuckled, a hearty laugh that belied his close-to-seventy-year-old self, and replied with a simple, “No.” Ah, the joys of family gatherings, where no one really cares that he’s been a captain for multiple seasons on the Deadliest Catch.
Funerals, oh, what a delight they are.
I discreetly slipped into the bathroom, thinking I’d find some missing family members there. To my surprise, I stumbled upon a small group seated in the bathroom’s mini-lobby, which consisted of a solitary chair and a bench. Each held a water bottle, but the way they exchanged glances and offered sly hugs made me 99% certain that there was something stronger than water being passed around.
After taking care of business, I passed through the group, trying to ignore the prompts like, “Jack, your daughter is so cute.” I just smiled politely, fully aware that my mental capacity for engaging in a tipsy conversation was nonexistent at that moment. Besides, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness for them.
My favorite person to talk to in this whole event was my cousin Tracey. He’s a year older than me, and there he was, at the back of the room, holding his son Davey. I scooped up Evelyn into my arms, and we caught up as if no time had passed at all. It was nice. The countless youthful summer adventures that exist between us, of riding around in cars as teenagers, blasting U2 with our hands out the window on days that seemed to stretch on forever. The best are the days of hanging out on a sandbar with fishing rods, and those days were truly unbeatable.
And then, as the event wound down, we left with a program from the service and a promise to meet my second cousin for lunch in two Mondays from now.
I felt a strange mix of emotions. Grateful for the stories and the photos that brought to life the sunshine that was my grandma. I felt special, knowing that she had moved in next door to me, of all people, and for all the days and years I could walk over to see her. In her last years, our visits became less frequent due to various circumstances, but I’m okay with that. I knew I was special to her, and she was certainly special to me.
I almost shared something at her funeral, but I held back. It’s a birthday voicemail message from her that I’ve kept since 2017, and I just couldn’t bring myself to delete it. It’s a cherished memory I’ll always hold onto. I’ll go ahead and share it here.
And to my Grandma: I miss you. You were spectacular and far too humble about it. You taught me more than you know, thank you. I love you. Love, your granddaughter, Jaclynn.
Going On 40 