Our family arrived at 6PM. My brother was the only one who did not come; his reason was that is that he doesn't like wakes because they are too intense for him. He makes his own choices, and I am not criticizing his reasons for not going to wakes (they are valid and I understand him), but I was just a bit upset that he did not go to his grandfather's wake. Granted, he did not know him for a long time, but my mother really wanted him to be there, and he was not. That just made me upset at him. Not to mention that she was really upset at him too.
The funeral home had sectioned off a room for us, which was hidden by a partition. They pulled it back, as if they were showing what prize was behind the curtain. It was my grandfather in a very nice coffin, with bouquets of flowers surrounding it. The moment that they pulled it aside, my mother and my aunt burst into tears. They began wailing and crying, typical of Haitian funerals. I thought I was prepared for it, and I was mostly, but not completely. It truly showed me how much they cared for their father.
People started coming in to pay their respects. Earlier in the day, Luke (my manager at TOMB) called me and wanted to know the address of where I would be, cause he wanted to stop by. He did come... along with Joe (one of the assistant managers). I was happy to see both of them, but I was a bit more excited to see Luke than Joe. They stayed with me for about 20 minutes, and met my mother, who was a wreck. Normally, I would be embarrassed to have people from work around my dysfunctional family, but I realized that this is a part of life, so there was nothing to be embarrassed about. They let me know that I could take all the time that I needed. It won't be for super long, but I am not working this weekend as to attempt to spend some time with my mother, which is something that I would really love to do.
More people showed up as the night went on. Frisky and his family came with about 1 hour to go, and just in time as well, as had not eaten a single thing, and I really needed to take a breather. So Frisky, his brother Michael, and I went down the street to the food court at the nearby mall to get some food and talk. We had left just as the pastor (who, by the way, was 2 hours late because "he had to find his pants" [bullcrap]) started the session It was so nice to have them around. We returned to find that the prayer session had ended, and people were stating to leave. So I said my goodbyes and we prepared to leave to go home, gearing up for tomorrow.
There was only one point when I actually shed some tears. about 40 minutes after we arrived, and as people were chatting about things and stuff (I had no idea), I had walked up to the coffin and just stood there, looking at the arrangement and my grandfather. I could have sworn that I saw him breathe a few times, but I knew better. "Father," "Grandfather," "Husband," and "Friend" were some of the ribbons that adorned the bouquet. I was just doing a lot of thinking:
What was his life like? Did he suffer when he died? He will never be able to move or speak again? He was 79? My mother is only 49. That give her 30 years. 30 years to show her how much of a success I can be. And what about the rest of my family and friends? How old are they? How long do they have? Will this be my mother soon?
These were some of the many thoughts that ran through my head during the 15 minutes
I stood there. One of my mother's friends asked me to sit down because I was standing there for so long, so I did. But when I did, I started to cry a little. In my mind, all that I could think about was the fact that I had less than 30 years with my mother and father, which made me very upset for some reason. I thought that soon it would be them in the coffin and me sobbing. I just could not handle it. I only cried for about 8 minutes or so, but it's something that I would not forget.
Saturday was an early day, as I woke up at 5:30AM to get ready. Nothing exciting about that, mind you.
We got dressed, and went to go pick up my aunt and cousins and wait for the limo. I rode in the back with my mother and my brother, while the front of the limo housed the rest of my family. It was a nice ride, filled with a few jokes and laughs. But those ended when we arrived to the church.
Once again, when my mother and aunt walked in, they saw his body there and began to cry. Now one thing that I should mention is that unlike most other funerals I've been to, Haitian funerals tend to be very vocal and emotional. And by "very," I mean "super." It's important that people be allowed to express how they feel. I'll skip through most of the funeral, but some of the "highlights" were:
- Me hyperventilating about midway through the service
- Jean refusing to carry the coffin out to the hearse, but then changing his mind
- My mother passing out
- My aunt having to be restrained
- My cousin Sophia reading a very well written piece about my grandfather
- Me learning that my grandfather had 6 kids: 3 daughters (all from the same mother), and 3 sons (from 3 different women). Yeah, that's where I get my woman skills from...
Although this was a very sad occasion, it was a reminder of how much love there actually is in the world. One of the most important people in my life is my family. I love them all (although sometimes I don't show it), and they have always been there for me. My friends are also very important to me. I rarely use the word "love," only because it is a powerful word that should not be thrown around. But I truly love all of my friends who have been there for me throughout my life. If there is one thing that I would want you to take away from this post it would be the following: Tell the ones you love that you love them before they are gone.
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