By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter
Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter
Look at them standing there ... he's smoking a cigarette ... I smell the smoke all the way to here. She's laughing, flirting ... her hands fluff her hair, lifting it from her shoulders. She shakes it out, lets it fall back on her shoulders. She is pretty ... but, ... can't she do this somewhere besides ... here. Besides ... that man is married to her sister. Trash!
I move over to where I hear giggling. Darn those old-ass women! They are gossiping up a storm ... here! Where are their manners ... they are old enough to know better.
People standing by the coffin ... looking in. I hear someone say, "she doesn't look like herself, does she?" Too much make-up ... her hair isn't fixed like she normally wore it. Darn them! Who are they to stand there, say such things. Do they think they will look perfect when they die? How do they know how they are going to be made up for viewing. Damn them! It's enough to bring someone back from the dead!
I raise myself up out of the coffin ... glaring at the people who stood there. Eyes grew big, skin paled. They didn't know what to think ... they went instantly into shock. I grinned at them ... not in a nice way, either! I made an evil grin, they deserved it!
"I'm not dead! I was but, you made me so angry that I couldn't rest in peace! The next time I die, I will die in private ... I will be cremated I don't want any of you to come around me living, much less dead!"
"You come to party at my funeral! You laugh, you play, you gossip, you eat ... you try to go with someone's husband! You can all go home ... I'm not dying now ... not until I can die in peace, in private ... not have no one at my funeral!"
"If I want to smell smoke ... it won't be from a darn cigarette ... it'll be from my body burning into ashes. Now, go! I'm not going to lay here dead while you have fun at my funeral! I can't even die in peace."
One by one ... each one of the people filed out through the door of the room my casket sat in. I crawled over the side ... looked inside the coffin at the white lacy fabric ... sure was pretty. I still smelled smoke from the man whose sister-in-law flirted with him. Trash! Not at my funeral!
Served them right ... let them all go home without the satisfaction of standing at my graveside shedding crocodile tears ... let the crocodile bite everyone of them in the butt!
I looked across the room ... at a lone figure sitting on the upholstered couch. Why, it was my husband. He wasn't aware of all that had transpired in the room my body had laid in. He was in shock ... no one had cared. No one had walked to him, sat beside him to comfort him. Shame on them!
I walked to the couch ... I sat down beside him ... put my arms around him. His eyes were closed in grief ... he wouldn't look to see who was there. I took my hand, patted him on his cheek like I always did ... he began to open his eyes.
As he became aware of me sitting there ... he cried out! My darling! You've come back! I smiled at him and he held me tightly. I stood up, took him by the hand ... led him past the owners of the funeral home. I'm sure they thought they were witnessing a paranormal event ... but, I was the real thing. I wasn't ready to stay dead.
We got into the car, drove home. We lived many years happily until I got ready to die again. This time ... no funeral. I was cremated ... no false people pretending to be friends, family. My husband took my ashes home to comfort him. I was at peace finally ... I had to die twice to ... rest in peace.
Note by this Author:
Today we drove by a funeral home ... I saw people standing in their little groups ... laughing, socializing, smoking ... a woman in a mini-skirt, flirting with a man. I sat watching while we waited for the light to change.
I don't mind seeing this at someone else's funeral. But ... not my funeral.
I'm going to be cremated ... no one will be welcomed to come view me excepting my husband, Skip. No one is going to laugh, have a party while I lay dead anywhere. Besides ... when I sleep I don't let people come to view me ... why would I let them come to view me when I go to sleep ... forever?
Through time I have paid attention to how people act ... a lot of them come to the home of the deceased to eat all their stomachs can hold ... smiling, laughing all the while. When they leave, they carry their little paper plates all wrapped in plastic with them ... to have a snack that night.
I know this is normal for many people ... I don't knock it. But ... I've never done that at someone's funeral ... I cared about 'why' I came to either the funeral home ... or the actual home of the deceased. I understand that everyone has different customs when their loved ones die ... everyone respects that deceased person's wishes. I truly respect others and their customs even if I prefer different.
My wishes when I die are that I'm taken directly to be cremated ... no viewing. Only my husband can see me ... if my son was still living ... he could have been there. My ashes will be put in a modest container/urn ... not expensive ... taken home where ... I can rest in peace.
Do you know what you want when you die? Do you want everyone to gather around your body, smiling and laughing ... talking? Some people find comfort in that ... that's good for them ... not for me. I'd hate to get back up only to ... have to do it all over again.
This is really what I think ... true thoughts only with some humor (sick humor?) .... because the subject is so serious. It's not funny, but yet ... we have to use humor to tell something that makes us afraid. It's sometimes, easier to talk about such things in a gentle, humorous way ... all the while being very serious.
Story/photo written, owned by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.
I have to agree with you! People act like it is a party. I don't want people standing around laughing and having fun at my funeral. If my mother dies before I do-------people will be ask to keep their voices down. If they can't do that-----they are welcome to leave. Love, Ms. Nancy
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