![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
And I didn't even cry... (double post)
Aug. 5th, 2004 08:04 pmGrandpa Heredia's funeral was today. We got up early- even after being awakened by the house alarm when Mom opened the door leading to the garage. I thought for a moment that my sister was Bruce. I almost called out to her, but I am glad that I did NOT. We got up, showered, shaved and primped, made our grand entrances down the stairs of Nana's just to wait for the limo to show up to take the married people to Nana's church. I wore my pentacle.
The mass was... a mass. Monseigneur Guista and Father Kenny were the celebrants. I fround the Latin lyrics to Ubi Caritas in a hymnal, which I wrote in pen on the back of the poems I chose to read since I was able to speak at this one. I read two works by John Donne: Hymn to God, My God, In My Sickness and Sonnet 72 (Death be not proud). Despite my years in choir and theatre, I shook as I stood there and tried not to let my voice shake as badly as my knees. I ended by saying "Please remember that the dead are not gone so long as they are remembered. So, as the Welsh would say, 'Bydd i ti ddychwelyd', there shall be a returning for thee." It's meant as a prayer for reincarnation, but I think only Grandpa and I got it.
Afterward, we drove in a mostly silver car motorcade to a small civilian cemetary in Stone Mountain. Grandpa was laid to rest with full military honors. We then drove back to Nana's where we got one last family picture. Aunt Delayne, Uncle Randy and Jack left and Jessica and I took a brief nap until Elyse (the oldest daughter of Dad's baby sister) came over with her dad to see The Village. Great movie!
I have cried. I cried when I got the news. I cried briefly when I went to see Bruce the night I got the news. I cried briefly while packing. I haven't cried since. I haven't wanted to cry. I did almost lose my composure while Dad gave his remarks and he teared up. Nothing unnerves me more than seeing my parents cry. That's why I sobbed at Pappap's funeral: my mother was crying.
I'm not callous or feelingless. I'm just not able to cry. I'm glad they're gone. Neither of them are being eaten alive by tumors, just to waste away as dignity slips cell by cell into the good night. They're not in pain anymore.
The mass was... a mass. Monseigneur Guista and Father Kenny were the celebrants. I fround the Latin lyrics to Ubi Caritas in a hymnal, which I wrote in pen on the back of the poems I chose to read since I was able to speak at this one. I read two works by John Donne: Hymn to God, My God, In My Sickness and Sonnet 72 (Death be not proud). Despite my years in choir and theatre, I shook as I stood there and tried not to let my voice shake as badly as my knees. I ended by saying "Please remember that the dead are not gone so long as they are remembered. So, as the Welsh would say, 'Bydd i ti ddychwelyd', there shall be a returning for thee." It's meant as a prayer for reincarnation, but I think only Grandpa and I got it.
Afterward, we drove in a mostly silver car motorcade to a small civilian cemetary in Stone Mountain. Grandpa was laid to rest with full military honors. We then drove back to Nana's where we got one last family picture. Aunt Delayne, Uncle Randy and Jack left and Jessica and I took a brief nap until Elyse (the oldest daughter of Dad's baby sister) came over with her dad to see The Village. Great movie!
I have cried. I cried when I got the news. I cried briefly when I went to see Bruce the night I got the news. I cried briefly while packing. I haven't cried since. I haven't wanted to cry. I did almost lose my composure while Dad gave his remarks and he teared up. Nothing unnerves me more than seeing my parents cry. That's why I sobbed at Pappap's funeral: my mother was crying.
I'm not callous or feelingless. I'm just not able to cry. I'm glad they're gone. Neither of them are being eaten alive by tumors, just to waste away as dignity slips cell by cell into the good night. They're not in pain anymore.
