Deets would be details. I just happen to always refer to it as “deets”.

I can’t help but abbrev.

I feel like there is much to say from this past weekend and it’s about time I fill you in. Without further ado …

If there’s one thing to know about me, besides being a Total Taurus, it’s that I possess an unnatural fear of public speaking.

Just typing that has my heart rate increasing and a wave of anxiety washing over me.

I’m not sure how this began, but I do remember when.

I can recall being enormously petrified in Kindergarten to have to say anything infront of my classmates. There’s one particular morning that I can remember with such horror and clarity.

We were asked to share our favorite song. Not a hard question by any means. Under any other circumstances, I could have rattled off numerous songs — I was quite the savvy 5 year old, thanks to Brother 1&2.

However, that day, nothing came to mind. My heart pounded and I said nothing. I was frozen with fear.

This only continued … I’d feel physically ill anytime I had to present anything infront of anybody, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed.

It stuck with me through high school, but somehow I managed to compensate by putting on a cool and collected exterior. I volunteered to go first for every presentation.

It was way worse for me to have to sit there and agonize even longer over what was to come as I had to listen to everyone else. Not to mention, it made me feel like I was forgetting everything I had to say.

No one really knew about my fears of speaking publicly. In fact, when I finally did tell Maman, she was shocked.

She couldn’t believe that I’d have sleepless nights, that I would be all consumed leading up to whatever it was I was going to have to do or say. That my heart would wildly beat and my palms start to sweat.

I tried to keep it in check and I suppose I was fairly successful at that, because I recognized that, at some level, it wasn’t real.

And if I didn’t claim a reality to it, then I could overcome it.

I say all this to give you a fairly good grasp of just how difficult it’s been for me to stand up and speak.

When Brother and I found out during the Visitation that no one was going to be speaking at Gpa’s funeral I immediately, without thought, said we would.

It had to be we, not me, because I needed Brother there next to me. I also knew that if I agreed to it, he would, as well. For the same reason – he, too, needed me.

Alone was one thing, but together was another. We could do this.

I felt so compelled to speak because … over the last week, I have been overwhelmed at the number of people who have stopped me, some of whom I had never even met or spoken to before, to give their condolences and share their own Gpa story.

These stories were filled with a similar theme — kindness. Something giving and generous he had done that had stayed with these individuals and made a difference.

To say I was touched at these words would be an understatement. I had to say something.

I won’t lie – I had been dreading The Visitation. For one thing, I didn’t feel like seeing a shit load of people who were going to try to offer words of comfort.

F that when I barely know you. Yeah, I was in a mood.

But once I got there, everything fell into place. I think namely because my niece and nephew and my grandmother’s grandchildren were there.

There just can’t be a heavy mood with little kids running around and playing games — which there were plenty of.

Plus this picture, which I know I already posted, but had to put up again, had me laughing out loud countless times:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I felt like it all comes down to this – my Gpa on a sign, indicating left. Classic.

Another highlight was my niece belting out a made up Hello Kitty song and The BF coming up with the brilliant game of acting out animals.

It only made it that much more humorous that they were climbing around, monkey sounds and all while jumping off of the long table where the caskets are put on display.

Classy of us.

For the record, in case anyone is confused at this point as my reference to my grandmother’s grandchildren … technically, this is my step grandmother. I refer to her, for all intensive purposes, as my grandmother. But I thought this might clarify some questions.

There turned out to be many light hearted moments that made me laugh. Or maybe that was just me searching out the humor in every situation.

Such as all the seniors there who were truly bummed out that Gpa’s casket was closed.

“Oh dear, I had so hoped to see him one last time.”

I found this completely hysterical. Really, you want to stare at his dead body? Go for it, honey.

Or my niece asking me if all dead people wear makeup when they die.
Why, yes, I think a lot of them do.

Which prompted me on to … how funny the funeral business must be. At least to try to stay sane.

I mean, can you even imagine … having to take dead bodies and make them look good and presentable?

C-razy.

The most touching thing about Gpa’s visitation was the Honor Guard.

Yes, there was a nonstop slew of decent looking — notice I said decent and not good or hot {because none can compare to The BF – his hotness deserves its own post though I do think he might have been a teeny tiny bit jealous of those uniforms}, in shape uniformed officers standing guard. Nice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At one point, Brother 2 left to go buy a {small} bottle of whiskey – yeah, we know how to do it up at a Visitation and as I was looking for a shot, I mean, him – I barge right on into a back room where said officers were on guard.

Get it, on guard? I know, I try to be funny … try.

Anyway, no Brother to be found, but there was a mini fridge, which I walked right over to and was thrilled to find a non-expired Diet Coke.

Right as I open it, I see the sign: Do not take beverages out of fridge for consumption.

Whatever. I could claim grief overtook my emotions.

The rest of The Visitation flew by. Plenty of distantly related family members that I hadn’t seen in many years, which accounted for plenty of awkward moments.

But, seriously, it was good to see everyone.

I tried to sleep that night, but it wasn’t happening. Mainly because my impending speech was weighing heavily on my mind.

What to say and how to say it? It’s incredibly challenging to try to briefly sum up someone’s life while giving it the attention and justice it deserves.

When Saturday morning came, I thought of every reason and excuse to back out.

Who was the jackass that thought it would be a good idea for us to speak?

Oh yeah, that was me.

I decided to jot down a few key points to touch on. That’s right, no paper to read off of here. Forget that.

If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.

I know the actual service couldn’t have lasted more than 30, or 35 minutes, at most. Yet, it felt foreverrrrr.

I was nervous, yet this time, my nervousness was different. In its place was a calmness. Not a complete calmness. But a hint of a calm that I had not experienced.

I focused on my breathing. I focused on the moment.

It was all about The Power of Now up in there.

Most of all, I focused on Gpa. Asking him to be there with me and keep me steady.

As I listened to the minister, I was struck by a few things:
1. He starts off saying that he only met Gpa a couple times.
2. He starts talking about my points. My points! The same things I had planned on saying.
3. WTF. You said you didn’t know him that well, stop cutting into my speech!
Really, of all the times! What the hell was I going to say now?

I didn’t have much time to think about it, because suddenly, there Brother and I were, striding up to the podium.

F oh F oh F it. Game ON.

I looked out at everyone and said the only thing I could: that I was nervous. That there were so many more of them there infront of me than I thought there would be.

Really, I wanted to throw in an expletive, but I knew Maman would not appreciate it, and I didn’t know how many people would get my humor.

And the most amazing thing happened when I verbalized my nervousness. It almost went away. Sure, it was still there, but I no longer felt bound by it.

I said how difficult it is to try to sum up his life, but I was going to give it a shot.

My points, the first one being something Mr.Minister couldn’t say:
Gpa as a Gpa.

Fun, supportive, encouraging. So much fun we had.

All the countless baseball games he took us to, how he always always indulged us – jerseys, batting gloves, sundaes in those hat cups, game balls. He constantly indulged us. Shopping and dinners.

He took a real interest in our interests. He bought me my first cassette tape. Def Leppard – Pour Some Sugar On me. And loved listening to it.

One afternoon my sophmore year in high school, during a Gpa visit, I came home to hear music blaring from my room. I walk in to find Gpa dancing to Jimmy Buffet’s Fruitcakes song.

He proceeded to give me a great piece of advice: While there might be a lot of fruitcakes in this world, there are a lot more dorks. Avoid the dorks.

But the thing that strikes me most of all, are the stories I have heard from others.

Such as the woman who told me she only met Gpa once, yet anytime thereafter that they randomly saw one another, he’d always take the time to talk to her, acknowledge her.

Or the woman who has worked at the post office. Gpa always made sure she waited on him. Again, always asking how she was, inquiring about her family. One afternoon he came in to drop a fruit basket off. Just because.

That’s the kind of person Gpa was.

This power of kindness, which just goes to show how we never can imagine the effect our actions have on others and they way we might be touching lives.

This service to others is a wonderful example of how to live and a reminder to give and … be kind.

That’s the gist of what I said. Quick and to the point.

I was composed. I had to be. I’m not the type to lose that composure and give in to the whim of my emotions. That’s for later.

I knew I had done a fairly decent and moving job when afterward, Aunt J said I better speak at her funeral.

Excellent. A shoe in for another death speech.

My composure, however, did wane on the way to the burial … along with the Honor Guard, we had a police escort.

Gpa would have loved it and highly approved! He was big on things like that — making a scene, in a sophisticated, tasteful way. I thought it was so perfect that there was plenty of hoopla surrounding his death.

As we rounded the turn towards the cemetery, the lead police car had stopped, blocking traffic, and turned to salute.

That salute about did me in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then at the burial … it was the bag pipes. Amazing Grace and at the end how he just walked off, those haunting sounds filling the air.

It was beautiful and his presence was with all of us.

Even in his death, he taught me one of the most important things I needed to know about myself: that I can speak. I can get up, even when it’s difficult and talk. From my heart. That I no longer need to fear it. That might have been who I was, but it’s not who I am now.

Thanks and so long, old soldier. A bientot.