Thursday, April 30, 2009
My Mother told my sister yesterday that she was going to write her own obituary.
Author's Note: My Mother has been planning her funeral since I was about 8. Maybe earlier, but that's the first time I remember the conversation and I remember being a bit upset about it back then. However as time went on and so did she, ad nauseam as a matter of fact, I have become quite used to the funeral talk interspersed with the ever popular "I'm cutting you out of the will" monologue.
The other day, however, My Mother decided to mix things up a bit. While ranting to my sister about how awful her family is and specifically about her decision to write her auto-obituary, she added "And I am going to say that Marty D died leaving no survivors."
Which is kind of ironic since I often wonder how any of us survived considering our childhood, but anyway, my sister didn't think that statement was even a little amusing which is why my blood pressure is lower than hers, and so she told My Mother that she was being ridiculous and that she had no say in what was written in her own obituary, for the obvious reasons and to that My Mother proclaimed "You have no idea what I can do."
Now, to some people this appears to be just the usual rantings of an older lady who feels that life has wronged her terribly and reminds her kids of this fact and also? That we are mostly or hugely responsible for her misery, but to me - a woman whose best friend is a medium - yeah, my best friend talks to dead people, this is a damned scary thought. I mean, if Marty realizes what she can do from beyond the grave, I am in serious trouble. I mean, she could be a real pain in the ass once she passes on. No place to run, no place to hide. Right? SCARE - EE.
But the thing is. In the time in-between her death and her afterlife shenanigans, I might have a small window of opportunity to have a little fun. So I've decided that while the others are busy cleaning the house and picking out caskets, I'll be the one in charge of My Mother's funeral outfit, hairstyle and makeup.
And this has nothing whatsoever to do with that incident when I was 11 and I decided to try wearing makeup for the first time and I plastered bright blue eyeshadow all over my entire eyelids way up to the eyebrows (and orange lipstick - ORANGE) and she allowed me to go out to the store looking like this. Nothing to do with it whatsoever. I'm over it. Really. Stop looking at me that way.
Posted by Princess Stupidhead at 5:23 PM
|What Say You?|