Remembering a Death - Being 60 (week 7 - by Margaret Ullrich)

For some reason Pop decided that everyone had to honor the memory of Uncle Tony by driving upstate and visiting his gravesite every year.  Of course, we'd also drop by Aunt Kate's for a bite.  I don't know how Aunt Kate felt about hosting a barbecue for in-laws and relatives she hadn't seen for nearly 2 decades, but she agreed to fire up the grill.  

Not everyone shared Pop's enthusiasm.

Relatives, especially in a large family, can develop into quite different individuals.  Over a few decades there isn't much they share outside of the DNA.  Some folks like to gather the family around a large dinner table.  Others like to gather with friends around a few bottles.  Different strokes for different folks.  

In a large family you can avoid a relative or 2 pretty easily.  During the 16 years after the 'Fur Coat Incident' my family had settled into a routine.  Some relatives we saw regularly.  Some monthly.  Others just during Christmas and Easter. 

Pop told everyone he expected a real crowd to show up.  No dice.  Our regulars and monthlies had decided they'd done their bit when they went to the funeral.  No sense seeing a guy more after he was dead than they saw of him while he was alive.  

The only relatives who joined Pop on his pilgrimage were our C & E's, a couple who, like Kate and Tony, enjoyed their booze.  Pop was a 'glass of wine with Sunday dinner' fellow.  My boyfriend agreed to come along just to add to the body count.

The gravesite visit went quickly.  

After the barbecue, the elders - including Aunt Kate's boyfriend - just sat around making small talk.  Pop was still annoyed about not being able to rally the troops.  He'd seen the fuss made over the JFK site during the Robert Kennedy funeral, for Christ's sake.  Even without booze, Pop could get sentimental.  

My crowd - Tony's 4 kids, my sister and brother, my boyfriend and I - wandered off.  I had a copy of Cosmopolitan, the Bible of teenage girls in the 60s, and there was an article on Numerology, about what is revealed by one's name.  It filled the time.  We even did the numbers for my Aunt's dog, Mona.

That was the last time we went upstate.

Rest in peace, Uncle Tony.

A Death in the Family - Being 60 (week 6 - by Margaret Ullrich)

    The anniversary of Robert Kennedy's death always reminds me of Uncle Tony's death, which happened the week after Kennedy's.  

    I was working in a card shop, when my boss came over and said my father had just called.  There'd been a death in my family.  My Uncle Tony.  My father would be picking me up.  I had the weekend off, without pay.  Would I like a glass of water.

    I couldn't have cared less.

    We'd lived with Uncle Tony when we first came to America.  After 2 years there was a problem over the weekly split.  Uncle Tony's wife, Kate, was sporting a fur coat.  We were leaving for College Point.  Uncle Tony was moving to upstate New York.  He may as well have moved to the moon.  We never spoke of him again. 

    Here we were, 16 years later, driving to Uncle Tony's house.  Aunt Betty, who'd known Aunt Kate since they were children, had gotten there ahead of us.

    Uncle Tony wasn't even 50.  Cholesterol runs in the family.  That wasn't it.  Uncle Tony had a taxi service.  He had a partner.  His partner had an affair with Aunt Kate.  Aunt Kate wanted a divorce.  Uncle Tony managed to drive to the hospital, where he collapsed.   

    Okay... if you've watched The Sopranos, you know the kind of funeral that was expected.  

    Aunt Kate agreed to give Uncle Tony a proper sendoff.  Small condition... she wanted some company that night.  She was afraid that Uncle Tony's ghost might drop by, for old time's sake.  Aunt Betty was Sicilian and figured no problem.  Ma had a terror of ghosts, so she said I'd help guard the widow.  I knew I wasn't the target, so I said sure.

    Cousin Barbara, as their eldest, ordered the headstone.  She picked a double header, so her parents could rest in peace together for all eternity.  Everyone smirked.  Aunt Kate shrieked, "I'm not dead, yet."

    We had a quiet night.  

    The viewing went as planned.  After Aunt Kate was helped in, she howled, flew across the room and draped herself over Uncle Tony.  Everyone smirked.  The partner couldn't make it.  The prayer cards were taken.  We went to the Mass.  Tony was buried.    

    Our family's first funeral in America.