Thursday, October 28, 2004

Requiem 2

My boss, who is also my friend, has been watching her mother fight through illness after illness. This weekend she finally succumbed, though it was somewhat of a surprise, as she was actually doing pretty well lately. She had been up and around, cooking breakfast that morning, but by the evening when my boss's brother stopped by to drop off some prescriptions, he found her in her bed, gone. At least it appears that she went peacefully in her sleep. The viewing and funeral were both today, and Jane, Nutjob, JerseyGirl and I all drove down for it. Having been under the impression that it was going to take us two hours to get there, we met in the office parking lot at 6:30 this morning and were on our way. It only took an hour and fifteen minutes, so we stalled for a while in a coffee shop before going to the viewing.

You may be wondering why all four of us went, when it was such a distance and so early in the morning? Well, I would have gone if it was midnight and in Timbuktu, I wanted to be there to show my support. Jane also has a good working relationship with her and wanted to attend. JerseyGirl was looking for a morning out of the office, and Nutjob just had to go so she could pretend to be so distraught and make it all about her somehow. In fact, Nutjob's uncle passed away about a month ago, and soon after that, Loserboyfriend's grandfather died. So, when HeadHoncho sent out the email letting everyone know what had happened, Nutjob literally jumped up and said "Well, that's Number 3 for me!!!". I was really not looking forward to the prospect of being jammed in a car with all three of them for over three hours, but it turned out to be rather uneventful, thankfully.

Several other co-workers attended: PartnerInCrime, HeadHoncho, FuckingLyingScumbag and Puppydog, CheapSkate, and a few others who haven't made it into the blog (yet). We all went straight from the viewing to the funeral. It was a lovely service, very heartfelt and not preachy at all. My boss's 12 year old son read a poem he wrote to his grandmother, and it choked all of us up. One thing struck me though, as I sat there in the hard wooden pew, surrounded by co-workers. I kept thinking.... "I'm in church... with people from work. This is strange." It felt like a weird dream. I was very touched by the service but was fighting back tears because I didn't want Puppydog to see me crying. (It would have seriously blown away that "icy nordic efficiency" facade I try so hard to maintain). Maybe it was just the fact that I was feeling overly emotional about the whole thing, but I was kind of touched that we were all there, as people, sharing in our support of another. See, I really am a sympathetic mushball, deep down beneath the permafrost. ;)


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Being a mushball is okay, Silent.

Being a slushball on the other hand isn't. Those hurt. And you shouldn't be throwing them at someone's face either - that's how glasses are broken and parents get mad and all of a sudden a nice snow day turns into a trip to the eye doctor's office.

No, Silent, being a slushball is not okay.

2:45 PM  

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