My grandfather died last week.
It was sad, obviously, but not tragic. He was 89 years old, had quintuple (that’s 5 if you can’t uple that high) bypass surgery 15 years ago, another bypass surgery 2 years ago and a heart attack a week before he died. So while sympathy is ALWAYS appreciated (after all, what is a blog for??), it’s not the point here.
His funeral meant we had a mini, impromptu family reunion. As plans were coming into place, I confess I had a minor panic attack at the thought of sharing a 1000-square foot house (namely, my grandparent's old place) with my husband, son, mother, brother, sister, Aunt and Uncle.
Fortunately, the Mooch has no soul nor desire to spend quality time with the extended family and drove 2 hours to spend 3 hours at only the funeral and reception. Then the Princess and Walking Guilt Trip declared themselves above sharing facilities with the recently departed and so rented a hotel room for the weekend, as did my Aunt (which I will only assume was a charitable act to us and had nothing to do with her more than minor hatred of small children.) Her husband chose not to come. I’d comment, but I believe he was taking care of his own old, sick relatives, so I will refrain this one time only.
Now, as I’m sure all families must be prone to discuss during the visitation hours in the funeral home following the death of a love one, mine began to discuss the new positions the family members had required. In other words, The Walking Guilt Trip announced that she was now The Matriarch.
A common thing to announce at a funeral, I’m sure.
Thus began a lively debate on the Princess status. You see, both my Aunt and my sister wanted the title. In the end, they shared. No lingering bitterness from either side. Really. (PS - I would find it more amusing that The Princess titled herself The Princess if it weren’t such a fitting title and really rather obvious and therefore not at all clever on my part.)
Discussion moved on. The Energizer Bunny became The Little Prince. Stares turned to me. I chose to kindly exit the conversation with the pretense of entertaining the newly dubbed Little Prince, who was not at all entertained by the grievously incorrect topic. It was a good excuse.
Upon my return, I was told I had been named “Unfortunately Related” to the Family.
SO TRUE, so true!! I accept!!
Only later did it occur to me that THEY named ME. THEY were unfortunately related to ME. HOW DARE THEY!? Bastards! All of them!!