I've been meaning to post this for a while

Grandma died 3 weeks ago. When a family such as my father's is closeted dysfunctional all of that dysfunction suddenly surfaces when there is some sort of crisis, like a family death. My grandfather, though he loved his wife, refused to have her embalmed because it was more expensive (please note: Grandad is not poor, he can afford it) so it was a closed casket. My father's youngest brother, who has had issues since the day he was born, took his mother's death very hard and did not come to the funeral. It was truly heartbreaking to see neighbors and friends ask my grandfather where Howard was. My father and his other brother in true awkward form kind of stood around at first when people started arriving, not thinking that maybe they should stand by the door with their father and greet people-this is even more important because grandad is losing his hearing and refuses to wear a hearing aid. Finally my mother dragged all three of them to the door and said, "Don't move, greet people, help your father."

Despite all of this weirdness, the strangest part for me was going through her things after the funeral. It definitely did not take the "few hours" my father promised. Grandma was a pack rat and still had magazines and newspapers from the 80's. She had drawers filled with buttons-Just in case! Empty pill bottles, at least 10 incomplete china sets, and even an unopened gift from HER wedding.

I took a two green salad plates, 4 multi colored ice cream bowls, a vintage purse, and the silver set. My mother said to me, "You know, it's really nice of us to let you have that." I'm not so sure what that means.

To add to the twilight zone feel, Ken was there. I was very grateful that he came with me and having his support felt really good. But when I looked in the living room and saw him there with my dad, my uncle, and grandad it dawned on me- this could be it. He could be family.