As I sat in church recently, I wondered if my pastor knew that most of us know how to get to heaven. They teach it in the very beginning. First Sunday school class- God created Heaven and Earth. Second Sunday school class- you get to heaven by listening to your mom and dad and finishing all your broccoli at dinner. Check, got it.
But, the big question is what will take me there? Recently I have thought about that long and hard and it brings me joy when I see the reaction on others faces when I say “Don’t waste your time digging a hole just stick me in a pine box, throw me overboard and let me enjoy the waves." The look of terror crosses the faces of those around me and they assume I’m kidding, I’m not. We put so much money and emphasis on what vehicle we take to see the Almighty that if we stepped back and realized that we could pay for the oil spill just by saving money on funerals we all may sing a different hymn in the end.
Recently I went to a funeral and this dear sweet, old woman was lying in the front of this beautiful chapel and all I could think about was the fact that her casket reminded me of a new Buick. Perfect for a sweet little grandma who lived a perfect little grandma life right until the end. As family celebrated the life of this grand lady I thought of my own grandma 2,500 miles away. She was in a crock-pot.
Not only was she preserved in a crock-pot but we didn't even splurge and get her a new one we used her old one. I think even the knob was held on with super glue. When cleaning out her house several years ago after we all had the dreaded “Grandma we just don’t think you should be alone anymore” talk with her we came across her prized possession, her Crock Pot. We also came across a plain brown paper bag with a bunch of pill bottles in it. I made the mistake of opening one of the bottles and then reading the label. Nope, not some old 1950’s cough syrup she had been saving because she knew one day they would not make it anymore. It read “Red” as in Grandma “Red”. So it seems 14 years before when grandpa died grandma scooped a little of his ashes out of the urn to save to add to hers and for us to add to ours one day as a little “family potpourri”.
It seemed so fitting that we save the Crock Pot and use it as her urn one day. It epitomized everything about her. She was a master food preserver, judging competitions and telling hopeless young moms like myself why our jam didn't set up the way it should. She could dehydrate anything, and I do mean anything. Just a word to the wise, dried apricots looks just like dried salmon but they DO NOT taste the same. Preserving, canning, and pickling ran through her veins like crack for an addict. Frenzy’s started when she would smell cucumbers pickling in a jar of fresh brine. It seemed only fitting that she herself in death as in life be preserved. I’m sure if there were a way she would have loved to be pickled or canned also.
Though it is probably very unorthodox by most modern standard of burial, to my very diverse, and that is saying it nicely, family putting grandmas ashes in a Crock Pot was the only way to send her to heaven.
Being a transplant to the south there are several things I have learned about death, and funerals. Every cemetery is decorated fit for a queen. Everyone has flowers, balloons, Christmas trees, and hearts for Valentines Day. Southerners take tending to the grave very serious. Also people have funerals on Sunday’s here. I’m from Utah and that even causes me to let out a small Gasp. And the last thing I’
ve learned is once someone has passed their family takes on a very Jewish or Muslin tradition- Get them in the ground-ASAP. Not my family.
My amazing grandma passed late November 2009; we “Preserved” her for six months. Yes, she hung around on a mantle until everyone in the family and friends far and near could get together to celebrate her. This is not something I advise. Even by Utah standards this was wacky. But, once she was poured very gently and away from any flowing air vents into her trusty blue and cream Crock Pot she was laid to rest. Now I don’t think she was sitting in a holding room in heaven waiting around for us to finally do this. Can you see the conversation? I assume it would go something like this.
Grandma-“Oh hello, Angel of death, now you just go on about your business. My family likes to take their time so I’ll just be in the waiting room.”
Angel of Death- “That is not really the norm Carol, and I’
ve seen some crazy stuff. You want me to go haunt them?”
Grandma-“No, I have my knitting and a good book I’ll be just fine. Oh but, if you could tell my husband what is going on that would be great.”
Angel of Death-“You know he has been eagerly waiting for your arrival, he really wants to see you.”
Grandma-“Well it serves him right having to wait for me, I really didn't want to have to wear a C-Pap machine for the last ten years but, he thought no big deal of smoking those cigars. So he is just going to have to wait for me Sugar Babe.”
Angel of Death-“Did you just call me Sugar Babe?”
Grandma-“Yes I did.”
Angel of Death-“Yeah, I really don’t know what to say right now, so you just let me know when you are ready.”
She would not have been bothered about waiting. Now maybe we could have fulfilled her dreams of always wanting a red convertible and sent her on the fast tract to eternity. But, I think she was just fine being preserved for a long road home. In the end
isn’t that what we want? To be preserved in the memories of all those that we love, to never be forgot and just hang around like the smell of Sunday Pot Roast that has been cooking in the Crock Pot.
No matter how you mourn the lost of someone all that matter is that you do it. Don't tell people you are fine when you want to yell, yell and if they love you they will understand. I don't know when or where or how I will die but, this is what I'm sure about
- Do not put me the ground. that is the fastest way for me to haunt you ass.
- You better cry, and cry a lot I mean weeping at my grave, screaming "WHY, WHY"
- I would like my mother to come if she is still alive. Now this is a tricky on because if my dad goes first she may just real quick stop by his service with a bag and plane tickets in her hand to Greece. So we may never know when she goes. And my mother really does not like that kind of thing- funerals in general-
- Sing Morning Has Broken
- And last but, not least I don't plan on leaving anytime soon so let's just not think about it.
I mourn the lost of my grandma everyday, it's not something that I can just get over. But I can laugh about it, and I can hear her talking to me. When I read I hear her ask about the book. When I cook I hear her say "Oh Kristin that smells so good." When I look at fabric I hear her whisper "Now don't you use the cheap stuff." And this morning when I was picking out cucumbers I heard her say "This just tickles me pink that you want to learn how to pickle and can, that was always my favorite domestic duty."
So you see maybe it was a slow process getting grandma to heaven. I was not able to go to her funeral, Thanks BP you crap heads, so to me she is still knitting booties, drinking Ovaline Milkshakes (Steve-O's) and reading a book with a bowl of popcorn. She is perfectly preserved in my heart and mind. And that folks is something that can't be canned and put on a shelf!
