Grave Undertakings
The first funeral that I remember attending was my grandmother's. Strangely enough, it was not an altogteher unpleasant experience for a nine-year-old. In fact, with all due respect, it bordered on fun. She had died from a heart attack at the age of seventy-two, which I considered at the time very old. After my mother told what had happened, the first order of the day was to go shopping at the local mall for appropriate funeral clothing. My mother said we needed something new for each day of the wake and something extra special for the day of the funeral. Not to be appropriately dressed, according to my mother, was unthinkable. I received some beautiful new dresses. Not all were black, because my mother said it was okay for a child to wear colors like blue or purple. Besides the bnew clothes, my mother told me that we would be eating dinner out for the next few days. It began to seem more like a holiday to me.
Published April 2003 by New Horizon Press