New  »   Sunshine Jen  ·  Robot Journal  ·  Post-Modern Drunkard  ·  Poop Beetle  ·  Gator Country
My Grandmother's Funeral
And it rained like crazy in Vancouver. The day of my grandmother's funeral, it was cold and extrememly wet. Grandma would have been mortified to know that we were all standing in the rain and catching cold.

That night, my mother took me to visit her best friend from childhood, Pixie, who is so lovely. She has a big old dog named Moonie who leans against you, and howls at the wind.

I won't depress you with details, but she has been target practice where the fates are concerned. I could not get over the feeling that her house (which has not changed since the 70's) was haunted by the people she has lost. I got irrationally scared on my way to the bathroom when the lights flickered and window started banging.

Later that night, there was a windstorm so severe, several trees were uprooted.

As anyone who has ever lived in Vancover will tell you, it is a gorgeous place nature-wise, but the city feels haunted. A friend of mine used to say it feels like stolen land.

When I was a kid, I used to play this game when I was in the car: I would close my eyes for a while and then guess where we were, by the way it felt. 15 years later, I can still do that. I will say: 'we are at Alisa's family's house,' open my eyes, and be correct.

I forgot how different the vegetation is there. Shrubs are enormous and there are tropical plants and trees that stretch so high, you get dizzy if you stare up their trunk. And the rain. And the mountains. Monkey trees. The grey-green ocean. Maybe, it's because you pay special attention to nature when you are a kid, but I kept getting these mini-shocks of recognition with *plants*. Like old friends, I remembered how I used to feel when I saw them.

I ran into my old friend Claire at the old folks' home after the funeral. She was visiting her dying bubbie (who finally died Monday). She took me for a cup of good coffee and a drive to see the mountains by UBC. Bless her soul, she brought us some mellow B.C. pot. We smoked thoughfully, catching each other up on tragedies and triumphs, staring at the ski hill lights.

«« past   |   future »»

«« past   |   future »»

Previous Posts
What's a Nice Jewish Girl Doing With a Tree Like This?
How To Celebrate Mother's Day When You've Lost Your Mom
Cassette Players Were A Pain, But There Was Nothing More Romantic Than A Mixtape
The Joys of Raising Your Kid Downtown
The Virtues of the Yoga Date
I Loved Your Wedding But Please Stop Telling Us to Get Married

all comments

post #134
bio: adina

first post
that week

Share This

me likey

Category List
bun in the oven
February Smackdown
me likey
monkey cake
open letters

My Links
Prashant's blog
Gabriel on Flickr
my flickr account