My sister called to tell me my mom wanted me to call (my mom doesn’t have long-distance on her phone). Grandma Alice died this morning. They’re not sure exactly when, but that’s ok. Uncle S fell asleep sitting next to her so she wasn’t alone.
And here’s the thing: I don’t feel bad about it. I feel a bit empty, like my world is somehow less or smaller without her, but I don’t feel sad or upset or anything. I’m not looking for hugs or anything else that is done or said when someone dies, but it doesn’t feel right to have her death go unmentioned so there it is. She’s dead.
Ok, I take it back a little bit. I guess I was feeling a little down about it, but I didn’t know it until I came up with the title for this post. Then I let out a huge grin, as if the song were planted in my head by her, and then everything lifted.
Did you know that when my great-grandma, Grandma Alice’s mom, died, she requested to be buried face down? (If you see where this is going RIGHT NOW, you are automatically in the upper eschelon of the Cool Girls’ Club)
When my mom asked her why, she said in her teeny-tiny Scottish brogue “So that when people come to visit me at my grave, they can kiss my ass!”
Ba-dum-dum! Thankyew! Generations of Thomson (NO P PEOPLE!!!) women comidiennes ’til the end!