How does your family handle death?

It worked. I have to admit, I chuckled at that.

 

The last several years, because of her back issues, Mom had to do self-cathing. This meant a BUNCH of UTIs and man, when she got one, she didn't know which way was up. This last downhill turn started with a UTI. Don't discount them.

Sometimes, you do have to laugh.

We are having a cluster with the cemetery.

In 1949, Grandpa (Mom's dad) bought 6 plots: him, Grandma, his parents (his father was about to die) and two extra plots. Right next to this set of plots is Grandma's family, so we essentially have an entire row in the cemetery that is my family.

When they went to dig the grave for Mom's vault, they found someone.

Now, my first question to my aunt was, "Do we have an unaccounted for cousins?"

But no. Three days before grandpa bought this plot, this dude passed away, bought one single plot, and was buried there. The cemetery clearly did not keep great records in 1949, because they then sold the same plot with this dude in it to my grandpa. So he is now buried where my dad is supposed to go.

The cemetery is refusing to admit they made a mistake. But also, in order to move this guy so that he's not buried between Nuts and Nuttier, they are trying to track down some relatives of this rando who died 75 years ago to get their permission to exhume and reinter him somewhere else.

We did the Celebration of Life this weekend, so another round of tears but hopefully, healing from here.

 

In 1988, at 17, I helped hand dig and fill my great grandmother's grave. It was a small church cemetery way up the mountains. It came down to my dad, my uncle, me, my great uncle, and a couple of willing neighbors. No such thing as hired people or mechanical equipment. We used shovels.

 

Hope you took heed when the old-timer who lived down the road warned you that the ground was sour.

 

I don't know about that, but as I told my wife when she move to East Tennessee from eastern NC, Rocky Top isn't just a song. It's a fact.

 

Apologies for taking this thread in a darker direction, but how do you handle the death of someone who may not have been a great person?

My grandmother died about 10 years ago, and from my earliest memory, she was petty, controlling, vindictive and a lot of other non-nice words. She had 9 kids, and she openly encouraged her kids to fight with each other. It was like her personal little soap opera. She kept trying to convince her youngest daughter to get a divorce, to the point where they moved 2 states away to get away from her. I personally heard her make fun of one of her daughter-in-laws, to her face, about the affair her husband was having on her.

Ever since her death, all of that has been forgotten, and everyone in the family is all, "I miss her every day!" and "She was a great mother and person!" I just tune that out and change the subject whenever that talk comes up. Last time we were in town, one of my aunts went on and on about how I needed to go visit her gravesite. I bit my tongue so hard I think I drew blood.

Not sure why that bothers me, but I guess I figure it's a you-reap-what-you sow situation and I'd be plenty pleased to never speak of her again.

 

“That’s a difficult subject for me. I would rather not discuss it.”

If they keep going, hit the exits.

You can try and explain how you feel, but that most likely will lead to the kind of acrimony your grandmother apparently relished. So don’t give her a win in the afterlife.

 

I just ignore it all, change the subject and then vent to my understanding wife when we get back in the car.

 

That's probably your best option. Nothing you can say or do will even up the score with her now.

If somebody else wants to yammer on about how great she was, just tap out as politely as you can, say something noncommittal like, "she and I weren't really that close," and leave it at that.

 

I wish I had great advice on this. I avoided explaining this earlier on the thread, but here goes, at least some of it. My brother and I hadn't been speaking for a couple of years when he died. He avoided me because I kept trying to get him to make things right with the family. I may have mentioned bits and pieces of the story before, but the simplest way to put it is that he was a drug addict who did many of the shitty things you would expect from a drug addict. I didn't realize how bad it was until years later. I think I mentioned this earlier on this thread or elsewhere, but among the many issues she caused was a long delay before unveiling my mother's headstone. It is supposed to happen within a year of the person's death, but we finally had the ceremony over three years after she died. One week before the ceremony, my nephew called me to tell me my brother died the night before. He and his siblings were barely speaking with my brother when he died, but they did plan a small gathering for him. It was going to be damn near impossible to attend that and keep the plan for my mother's unveiling, so I didn't go to the gathering for my brother. Not a single person ever questioned me about it, but I regret not being there for my younger brother, nephews, and niece. I realize that I wasn't just angry at all the harm he caused. I was angry at him for dying without even trying to fix it.

I think that is why I was so emotional at my mother's unveiling. We didn't have a rabbi. I wrote a small service myself. Her best friend's husband suggested a couple of prayers. My aunt brought the small stones to put on the grave. We all said a little something. It was simple but beautiful. As we were leaving, I went back to her grave to say a last goodbye. I started to walk back to my family and just broke. I was overwhelmed with emotions I couldn't even explain. Some of it was guilt over my brother because I knew the way things ended would have broken her heart.

My brother's children have forgiven him. They acknowledge the things he did wrong, but they also talk about missing him. He and our younger brother also talks about missing him. I still remember having to be the one who told him our older brother died. He got pissed. He thought I was playing a really bad joke on him. He was crushed.

When they talk about him, they will often acknowledge that they know how I feel about him and why. Oddly enough, I've found some peace with it. I just realized that I don't hate him anymore. I pity him. Maybe that's all we can do with someone like that.

 

I love my brother but I’m not really close to him. And I get frustrated as hell when he relapses, especially since he’s now got a house full of kids counting on him.

So if he ever goes first, I’ll be at the funeral. I’ll give his widow a polite hug and my nephews and nieces heartfelt ones. And I’ll go home wishing we had been closer but knowing that it never really developed that way after I moved away after high school. And then I’ll move on with my life, because there’s only so much you can do.