death has a home

catholic mortality trading cards

Work’s o.k…. We’re coming up on Xmas week and despite the irons in the fire, I’m not feeling overwhelmed as I’m apt to do.

I got the call the other day from mom that Mary’s (one of her best friends from early-daze who now lives in Miami) mother had died.

I’ve known Mary since I was simply an egg hanging out in my mom’s ovaries in the 60’s. She’s that “super cool friend” of your mom that most men remember from their childhood. Always kind and willing to lavish me with attention – I was completely enamored with her my entire childhood.

Eventhough she’s a mature woman of 50 years, has two children, a successful career nearing retirement, and has made a new life for herself down in Miami – I still see her through 5 year old eyes… The tall midwestern featured hippy girl with long straight blond hair, giggling with my mom as they went to get garlic cheese bread to ward off the munchies. *I’d have to wait until age 30 to find out they used to get high together… Which makes me wonder if I shouldn’t call in a few favors to my friend with the Marinol prescription and invite her over for drinks, The Beetles Yellow Submarine and Cheesy Garlic Bread.

I remember Mary’s mom clearly but I haven’t seen the woman in probably close to 20 years. My reason for going to the funeral was a show of support for Mary. (*and probably a subconscious vendetta to prove to my mother that “YES MOM.. I OWN A FRIGGIN SUIT… “)

It’s been a while since I’ve been to a funeral. This one was at a new place built way out on the fringe of the suburbs.

It appears that Funeral Homes have borrowed from the Movie Theater industry – This place was a “MULTI-PARLOR MEGAPLEX”….

In the Chapel we have Mr. Robert Valdoskez
In Parlor A: Mrs. Emily Sanders
In Parlor B: Mr. Tom Berkschweitz
In Parlor C: The Matrix : Revolutions

The decor was mauvey-neutral-ameridreck-traditional and everything, including the air, had a faint baby powder smell… I guess sometime between last night and the last time I went to a funeral home somebody sent a memo to morticians about the embalming fluid smell.

I saw lots of people I hadn’t seen in over 20 years. I met the flower-girl I walked down the isle with as the ring-barer in Mary’s wedding. (At age 4, I thought “I” was the one getting married)… Wouldn’t had been a bad pick though, she’s grown to an attractive woman of approximately my age… but alas… (*see “I’m a homo” argument – Figure A).

I only approached the body to snag a few prayer cards. It’s a catholic thing and I suspect a great profit making add-on for the home. Iconic little cards with the dearly departed one’s name and a prayer printed on the back.

Older folks seem to snap these up like candy. What do they do with them?
I can only morbidly imagine that they return to their retirement homes and play some sort of grim version of pokéman with them.

My mom caught me slipping the cards into my pocket and she gave me that narrow eyed look and said:

“Don’t tell me.. You’re not going to blog about this.”