If you're Catholic, you can't get buried during Holy Week, we had the funeral yesterday and the wake the night before. I'm more morbid than some, but I can't stand funeral homes. I thought it'd be hard to see her in a casket but it looked so much unlike her, it didn't even seem real. I didn't tell too many people initially because I hate going to those places and I'd hate to drag other people to them.
Even though I haven't been Catholic for about 15 years, I still know all the words to the mass. It's strange how that sticks, even if I no longer remember when I'm supposed to kneel.
I was glad I got to see the extended family. When I get old I want to be like them, still able to get around and laugh. I look around at all of us and I see what I'll look like when I'm older. We all have the same eyes and the same weird sense of humor. My great uncles (her brothers) are joking about growing their cash crop marijuana in the vegetable garden back home and asking us how we can stand living in Cleveland with all these people around. I forget that for many of them, Canton's a thriving metropolis.
We all went out for Polish comfort food (stuffed cabbage, kielbasa, noodles,passed on the czernina (duck-blood soup) that was on special). I was tired and it was rainy so I was glad to get home.