We spent much of the past weekend in and out of funeral homes and visiting family. The myth that things come in three’s is not really a myth at all; things really do come in three’s.
On Sunday, we were at one of the funeral homes paying our respects to a family friend whose mother had passed away unexpectedly. She had chosen to be cremated and while I’m not down with the whole burning thing for myself, to each his own. We were are all standing in a nice single file line, waiting to speak to the family, whispering softly to pass the time, when out of nowhere my Grandmother chirps in with the following sentiment:
“It’s so sad. You’re alive one day and the next you are in a jar.”
Listen Lady, there are times where the old adage of “Think before you Speak” really should be put into good use. This would have been one of those times Grandma.
What you need to understand here is that my Grandmother, who is 80 years old and whom I love dearly, has absolutely no filter on her mouth. We could be in the biggest, noisiest crowd of people and my Grandmother would manage to pick the one second where silence befell the crowd to yell out “THERE ARE A WHOLE LOT OF NAZI’S HERE”.
This is not the only instance where my Grandma has perpetrated social taboo by speaking her mind. There has been many a time where those around her have wanted to crawl into a hole and die just to avoid the glaring eyes from strangers who have overheard Grandma’s remarks.
There was one time that is particularly special to me. Rewind about 6 years ago. Brett and I were engaged and planning our wedding. I had purchased my dress and was going for an alteration and had I asked my Grandma to come along as she had yet to see the dress. My mom helped me into the dress and laced it up for me (and I’m not joking when I say laced, it was like a shoelace up my back). I came out and stood in front of the mirror while the seamstress begin to pin up the hem. It was then that I asked the question that will forever scorn and mock me…”What do you think Grandma?”
Her response was simple, elegant really. Right to the point. Never had I heard such honesty. Grandma’s response:
“It’s really nice, just don’t get any fatter.”
Our conversation ended at that point. I mean, what else could I possibly say. There is no recovery, no comeback from that. Even the seamstress didn’t know what to say. So it hung there, awkwardly, like a lazy eye. I moved on and I get to tease Grandma about this moment we shared. If nothing else, I learned that Grandma can always be counted on for honesty, even if its brutal.