FUNeral: part one

The whole experience of my grandfather's funeral is pretty much over. I'm here at my parent's house watching a huge HD TV (new), sitting in a comfy office chair(new) blogging with their dial-up connection (also new. They upped it to 100mb/sec!) The HD TV is pretty cool. My dad wanted to show me what the picture looked like but had to find a channel that was in high definition. As he was flipping the channels he stopped and said it would have to wait. He wanted to watch Family Feud and that was not in hi-def.

Last night there was a rosary thingy. I haven't prayed the rosary since I was a kid and I'm pretty sure it was my grandfather who was leading it. Father Vicente, who has been at the parish for a very long time and knew my grandfather well, led the rosary last night. Father Vicente, a native Spaniard, has a heavy accent but I have gotten used to it over the years and understand him perfectly. I also know what he sounds like when he's talking and crying but last night while saying the rosary he had a different sound in his voice, one that sounded like a worn, warped record that has been repeating the same song over and over for decades. For those of you who don't know, the rosary consists of fifty Hail Marys said in groups of ten. It was during these that his voice became soft and warbled.


There were a lot of people at the rosary. All of my uncles, some of their families, even my sixth grade teacher, a friend of my father's who was there when KC and I made our unholy alliance all those years ago. Speaking of which, KC was sitting in his car outside. He didn't feel he was dressed enough for the occasion.

My grandma was being her usual self. As I walked up to her she told me I didn't look like Philip. I bet it's the haircut. She was a lot quieter than she has been lately but other than that she seemed fine. As the rosary was coming to a close she started shuffling with her purse, getting ready to go. She nearly dropped it and made an audible comment, something along the lines of "Nice move." After the rosary Father Vicente told about how my grandfather, who used to work for the school district, told him to take all the old chairs and desks he wanted when the parish was starting up their own catholic school and made some joke about church and state being separate. He started talking about the service/mass that took place this morning and my grandma made another audible comment. "Cut it short, Father."

Kc and I then went to a snobby coffee place we used to go to all the time before we moved to Arcata. Back then KC would hit on all the foreign girls who worked there. I even (tried to)hit on a cute, tall, skinny guy who worked there. I let him borrow my copy of Crumb. That went nowhere. Last night, thought, we had a great time catching up, listening to old-school Sebadoh, and making fun of people. I thought "This is just like old times, but better."