Baby's funeral

We didn’t go to Baby’s funeral, but we did go to the repast at her house. Happy and family thoughtful got a bouncer for the kids. Jory saw that on the front lawn and dived right in, reconnecting with Happy’s great nieces and nephews and grandchildren whom he use to spend his days with when they were all babies going to Happy’s.

I saw people I hadn’t seen in a while. Kids who had grown up. One who recognized me by the sound of my voice. Really my voice is that distinctive?

I stood on the porch with some of my family while waiting for Happy to make her appearance. Just shooting the breeze until I looked inside the house and saw people inside were playing some type of video. I went inside and Baby’s niece had created a slide show with four different categories and songs. The first section was Baby growing up. The next section was Baby and her kids. The next was Baby and her grandson. Then Baby and her sisters. I caught a pic or two of Happy in some of those photos. A section with Baby and her friends. Then finally photos that were solely of Baby.

I just started bawling. I saw that she was born on May 4, 1967. She was only one year, seven months, and ten days older than Mona. One year, seven months, and ten days older than my big sister. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what her sisters were/are going through. She had an older sister named Mona who after watching a few pictures, said, “I’ll start to cry,” so she walked out of the room. Not even 45. Diagnosised in May and gone by January.

I saw pictures of her in the snow and saw the date stamp of February 2011. Less than a year ago, she was alive, playing in the snow with her grandson, her daughter, her sisters, and other family members. Did she have any idea that would be her last February on earth? Did she know she was dying then? I mean faster than some others of us.

I cried when I thought about how young her children are. Yes, they are adults but to know that your mother won’t be there to celebrate your twenty-fivth birthday or thirtieth or fortieth. That at forty-five you would have surpassed her years on earth. I can’t even imagine.

I cried when I saw her now three-year-old grandson who most likely will never remember her. Won’t remember that trip to the snow. What it felt like for her to hold him? How she use to keep him on her days off while his maternal grandma worked.

Then I laughed because I wondered what did Baby do before cameras were installed in cell phones? These pictures, in this section, of her were mostly taken by her with her phone.

Finally it was over, I dried up my tears and went back outside. I went to go get a drink and all that was left was Tiki Punch. What are we five? When Happy came up, I didn’t know quite what to say. What do I say to a woman who lost her youngest daughter? Her baby for like twenty years. I said nothing just sat with her and my family, watching the kids play on the jumper. Watched her hold babies and chat about nothing in particular.

Then it was time for us to go. Jory came and gave Happy a hug, then I did and she whispered, “I love you guys.”

And I said, “We love you, too.”

Oh God is so good. So good.