If there were such a thing as the bridezilla of funerals, I am sure it would be my grandma.
Forget the fact that she didn't even WANT a funeral, and only conceded when I told her what asshats we would look like if we didn't have one for her. She finally decided it would be ok.
But I can hear her all the way from there:
"Talk - but not too long."
"Say something beautiful - but not too sappy."
"I don't want flowers - but there should be some."
"Don't serve food - but don't let people go hungry."
"Don't make jokes - dear Lord don't let people go around moping."
However, I do feel like the 38 years I've spent with her gives me some sort of handle on what all of that really means.
When she grabbed my hand in the hospital and said, "Do what you want," what I hope she really meant was: "I trust your judgement."
Because what I want is a taco bar catered from Chipotle, a gravestone that isn't located in a ghost town, and a valium.
We will settle for something slightly different. If you'd like to join us for her final farewell, we'll see you Saturday at 1:00. And if you see her before I do - please tell her it was all cool.