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fandomonymousThe viewing/wake-dinner/funeral happened. Grief, food, alcohol, a small mention of gambling addiction and poverty/survival tactics, insomnia, miserable Christianity (specifically Seventh Day Adventists), complicated family of origin stuff below the cut.
M lets me ride along to my aunt W[2]'s house for wake/dinner.
Around 6 PM, excuse myself; Lyft to the local brewery for some time alone with booze, two and a half rounds (they served flight-sized servings you could buy individually, and a local bought me a shot after hearing why I was there, thus.) The full beer was a bourbon barrel aged imperial stout; the half was also bourbon barrel aged, but a Belgian strong ale which was faaaaaabulous; the shot was Jameson.
Walk around the corner to the local Irish-ish place[4] and bought a fancy sweet cocktail (a spiked hot chocolate with cinnamon and more Jameson) and a slice of cold but alright olive oil cake all for myself.
Lyft back to the AirBNB. Scrub off makeup, change into T-shirt, keep on yoga pants but take off fancy pants. Attempt to collapse, roughly 10 PM.
Wake up at roughly 2 AM. Answer Discord messages from a potential-cutie asking if I'll be at Poly Cocktails[5], write an apology/status update to my boss about availability, read a ridiculous amount of The Difference Engine instead of sleeping, eventually collapse.
Wake up in a panic at 9:30 AM for a 10 AM funeral. Stuff things into backpack, fast shower, put on Fancy Dress, blazer, and tights, Lyft to Seventh Day Adventist church.
Sneak in late to funeral service around 10:15. Be gratified I'm not the latest to arrive. Feel awful and awkward at the religious moments, feel intense empathy on the parts that were actually about stories of great aunt's life. J's sister can't get through her speech. Said sister's children play music remarkably competently. But seriously, I felt the way the Adventists handled death and the hereafter distracted immensely from the idea of helping a family grieve and helping a community celebrate a fascinating woman. Yes, she was a member of this church and this church was important to her; but trying to convert us or convince us everyone is a sinner who will only be saved thanks to Jesus is a distraction from her and what she accomplished here...at least to me.
After the service, stand around awkwardly in the basement of the church waiting for food to be served while other family members go to the burial. Eventually eat some cheese and meatballs. Change into the black pants and the T-shirt and zip up the Heaviest Coat.
Around noon, decide to call a Lyft to get back to the bus stop to try to catch the 12:20. Family comes back soon after, but I make quick goodbyes before getting the Lyft.
Make the 12:20 and go the fuck home.
I learned so much, I feel I strengthened my relationships to many cousins; having to do this solo felt like taking on the mantle of adulthood in a way very few experiences have; it was a great XP boost, as Gabriel put it. But damn. It was a lot. And life just didn't stop.
[0] At 8 AM, there's a bus that goes to a casino in the city boundaries of Large Town. The casino bus is straight up cheaper, faster because there's no intervening stops, and comes with credit to the casino, obviously. There's stories of poor generally Chinese men taking that particular casino bus and then selling their credit to gamblers. I was sort of tempted to do the casino in part to give away the credit and help one of those dudes, if he exists and speaks English, make a little more cash. ...And then I missed the bus and never found out.
[1] As it turns out, Aunt W (see footnote 2) bought hotel rooms but NO ONE TOLD ME THEY WERE AN OPTION. Not that I mind, this AirBNB wasn't not-affordable, the privacy was nice, and the owner was really sweet but WHY IS OUR FAMILY SO BAD AT COMMUNICATION. (It took me texting J on Saturday to find out what the plans *were*. AAAAAAAAAAAGH.)
[2] Aunt W is J's mom and the only child of the dead great-aunt. How precisely I'm related to this family is a thing I do not fully understand; my best guess is that I'm related to great-uncle (great-aunt's husband). Cousins M and A also don't fully understand their own relationships to this family, so it's NOT JUST ME but also WHY IS OUR FAMILY SO BAD AT COMMUNICATION.
[3] My joking-not-joking explanation about why I personally ID as pansexual and am also very active in bisexual social circles in New York City. A fellow pansexual person also described this as 'politically bisexual', partly as a retort against political lesbianism, and I'm here for that too.
[4] You know I've settled into Irish-side Woodside when the local Irish-ish place feels like a great relief despite not being Irish. I kind of wonder how my life would be if I lived a bit further east into Filipino-side Woodside, but it's fine and this subway stop is better for my purposes.
[5] I'll call him Robin. More on him in the other post.
- Sunday morning, wake up at 6 AM (UGH), put on comfortable-but-kinda-fancy black pants over yoga pants (because it is cold), a blue shell tank, and a black blazer under The Heaviest Coat, Long Island Railroad to the A/C/E to Port Authority
- Miss the 8 AM bus because the rail and subway took forever to arrive[0], get the 9 AM
- Get to Large Town around noonish, walk down the street for a middling personal pizza with anchovies, freebie garlic knots, and a cup of decaf coffee for lunch
- Lyft to my AirBNB[1], drop stuff, straighten up what I'm wearing, put on makeup.
- At 2 PM, walk to the funeral home around the corner, go to the viewing.
- Meet my cousin M, who I haven't seen in a while (she doesn't go to this side of the family's Christmas like I do), and catch up.
- Most other folks there were the folks I saw at Christmas, including my cousin J, who took this better than I expected but may have just had flat affect due to also having a cold.
- There are photo albums, handwritten letters, and a book of short memoirs from alums of great-uncle's university, just outside the room with the casket. Weirdly, there is no copy of great-aunt's autobiography. The only picture of us together is from J's wedding, which was not a time of honor for anyone involved, and is 12 years old. I don't know how to feel about this.
- Since some folks show up to this who won't be at the funeral the next day, a short service is had, with weird rambling Adventist segments about waiting for death and being ready to accept God. Luckily there is also some music and a segment where J's brother reads some stories about great-aunt's life.
- A synthesis of that story and other stories: She taught home economics and was an incredibly good seamstress; she's buried in a dress she made for herself, a cream-colored supremely Filipino embroidered dress. She believed intensely in home organization and correctness in all things which rung weirdly for my earnestly organized brain. She refused pain meds until the very end, which makes me as a healthcare person grit my teeth but also teaches me a lot about my family tendencies. Despite all of these markers of domestic femininity, great-uncle (a polymath of some regard, who namedrops the Monte Carlo method in the memoir I mentioned) considered her his intellectual equal. The idea of being a domestic who could keep up intellectually FUCKS UP MY HEAD, because I was almost there myself back when I couldn't find work and wanted to marry Hernandez.
- I didn't go up to observe the corpse before the mini-service, because I didn't see the need. But I did after, if only to see the dress mentioned. In that moment I wish I had known her better, had known those stories before her death; writing this now, I know neither of us made that easy.
- Meet my cousin M, who I haven't seen in a while (she doesn't go to this side of the family's Christmas like I do), and catch up.
- Tons and tons and TONS of mostly Filipino food. Actually spicy laing, a delight. Two takes on pancit. Grab-them-as-they-come-out-of-the-wok lumpiang shanghai. Silky sour fucking perfect sinigang ng hapon. A huge tray of pichi pichi. But also, the white family that has married into us brings a seriously fabulous blueberry crumble that I want to swim in.
- Spend some time just catching up with J and cousin A, both of whom I know better now thanks to Christmas and are my fellow queers in this family at varying levels of out. (J is a bisexual cis woman who has mostly been dating women these last few years; A is nonbinary and I'm not sure about their sexual orientation but I think it's also in the Generalized Bisexual Caucus[3].)
- I get to give W a hug after she blesses the meal. (She does this before Christmas lunch too, and it bothers me less than the other displays of Christianity going on, maybe because it's normal for me to see, and it's from her instead of a priest I don't know.)
- Mostly just feel exhausted and socialed out, especially since I actually hadn't had time to myself in a few days. (See the other post.)
I learned so much, I feel I strengthened my relationships to many cousins; having to do this solo felt like taking on the mantle of adulthood in a way very few experiences have; it was a great XP boost, as Gabriel put it. But damn. It was a lot. And life just didn't stop.
[0] At 8 AM, there's a bus that goes to a casino in the city boundaries of Large Town. The casino bus is straight up cheaper, faster because there's no intervening stops, and comes with credit to the casino, obviously. There's stories of poor generally Chinese men taking that particular casino bus and then selling their credit to gamblers. I was sort of tempted to do the casino in part to give away the credit and help one of those dudes, if he exists and speaks English, make a little more cash. ...And then I missed the bus and never found out.
[1] As it turns out, Aunt W (see footnote 2) bought hotel rooms but NO ONE TOLD ME THEY WERE AN OPTION. Not that I mind, this AirBNB wasn't not-affordable, the privacy was nice, and the owner was really sweet but WHY IS OUR FAMILY SO BAD AT COMMUNICATION. (It took me texting J on Saturday to find out what the plans *were*. AAAAAAAAAAAGH.)
[2] Aunt W is J's mom and the only child of the dead great-aunt. How precisely I'm related to this family is a thing I do not fully understand; my best guess is that I'm related to great-uncle (great-aunt's husband). Cousins M and A also don't fully understand their own relationships to this family, so it's NOT JUST ME but also WHY IS OUR FAMILY SO BAD AT COMMUNICATION.
[3] My joking-not-joking explanation about why I personally ID as pansexual and am also very active in bisexual social circles in New York City. A fellow pansexual person also described this as 'politically bisexual', partly as a retort against political lesbianism, and I'm here for that too.
[4] You know I've settled into Irish-side Woodside when the local Irish-ish place feels like a great relief despite not being Irish. I kind of wonder how my life would be if I lived a bit further east into Filipino-side Woodside, but it's fine and this subway stop is better for my purposes.
[5] I'll call him Robin. More on him in the other post.