Aunt T

My Aunt T was a beautiful artist, in many mediums, watercolours, pencil, seamstress, (she made dolls, clothing). She was a really neat person. I always laughed when I was around her, she had the Mc******. . . . laugh, and when she was with my Mom, it was hilarious. It was like a gaggle of geese. She was one of the best pie makers around, and she always had a stash of homemade fudge. Poor Aunt T. . ., when we did visit, we always expected pie and only once do I remember her not having one (my brother and I teased her about "you better have a pie"). Her pastry was so good, and her rhubarb filling was phenomenal. She had a wacky sense of humour, and had a great spirit. She put up with a hell of a lot in life and in her illness, she persevered through hell. I remember when I last saw her on March Break, when I kissed her cheek, it was so comforting, it was like my eldest daughter's cheek, soft and plush. Her eyes were speaking for her at that point, she was paralyzed and I will never forget her liquid lake blue cerulean eyes. I remember holding her hand, and how it felt. My daughters regarded her as a Grandmother figure, they really didn't know their Great Grandma Mc. . . and Aunt T. . .. was in my kid's opinion the perfect stand in Great Grandmother. She was much loved by everyone. _____________________________________________________________________________________ I am going to allow myself to be COMPLETELY judgemental and emotive, because I, like some others are angry. I realize I can grieve in my own way, and I will plant a special flower in her memory. But it still does not erase the anger that I feel right now: My Aunt T's funeral was by far the worst funeral I had ever been to. Not that I am eluding that funerals should be a jovial, bum wiggling, Saturday Night Fever type time with firecrackers and bonbons and monkeys hanging from chandeliers. (Well, mine might be like that, minus the primates, because I hate monkeys). What you expect, is that the person who is lying in the casket is honoured, that THEIR life is celebrated and respected, regardless of what religion is practiced. Upon arriving at the funeral, on Saturday, my family was blocked by a funeral attendant who told me that the "seats are for family only", I said, "we are family" and brushed by her, and plunked my bottom on a chair. My husband sat beside me, and our daughters, sat beside him. Behind us, were my Mom, a few cousins, Dad, etc. We weren't able to pay our respects. After the orator (a member of the F** G****** Church ~I am thinking, judging by my googling, that it was a type of F*** G*****, a derivative), named my Aunt in the casket, and told us "she was a good wife", finally paused to take a breath after about fifteen minutes, my Aunt D, was able to make a short speech, and quote. It was very brief, but lovely, thank God she had the guts to do it. What I was unaware of, is that she had to ask permission to be able to speak, and that the parishioners who were speaking (two men) did not want her to speak. It was only because the man stopped for a breath, that she was able to bounce out of her seat, and push her way to the front that she had the opportunity, because they were not going to give it to her since "they were on a strict time line". Most likely this was due in part to the fact that we were "outsiders" to the religion, she was a woman, and all the women who were attending outside the congregation were wearing "slacks" (gotta love that word). The orator was quick to intervene, and the two orators took at least an hour and a half to extol the virtues of being saved by their sect (or how my Uncle was saved), and as an ancillary note, T followed as a dutiful wife (ahem). For an hour and a half, all that was said, was that her husband was saved. A few people walked out, angry, and justifiably so. There was no reverence for her life, her name was mentioned possibly four times. It was not a personal funeral, rather something that could have been taken from one of the F*** G******'s propaganda brochures. I will add that the women of the congregation, on Sunday's are to sit at the back of the church and say nothing. They are all dressed the same in long dresses and hats. They do not cut their hair. At the lunch afterwards, we were called "Filthy People" by a member of the congregation. (No shit, we were waiting in the vestibule, and as he walked by he said "You are filthy people", my Dad said "pardon me?" and he repeated himself again. We were all respectfully dressed, proper funeral attire, so obviously the comment was directed at us as a way of saying " You are not part of the congregation, you are tainted heathens that will go to hell". Well, we all know that those who profess to being "saved" have their quirks and moments of filth, we are all sinners. I could not believe it. My father also mentioned to me that a few of the men could be heard upstairs bad mouthing Mennonites (terrrible). What I do know, is that at a few points during her illness she did voice to my Mom that it was her faith that got her through, and that is what counts. I am just scratching the surface, because in my family's opinion, her faith did not bring happiness during her life, but again, maybe it gave her enough to get her through. Maybe, it gave her a place to hang her hat on at night, and that is what counts in the scheme of things. Could it be that she wanted her funeral to be this way? I dunno. I will never know. But her life and achievments and her value, should not be merely placed on the funeral or her faith, because she, as everyone, transcends that. As an immature end note: Unfortunately, the congregation does do uninvited house calls to spread their "word", but they will not be welcome on my threshold, I will have my daughter's STINK BLASTER ready and loaded and throw sage leaves at them, while poking needles in poppets with my snorting nasal spitting hell hounds by my side. . . .teehee just joking (maybe).