That Day

Why is this here?

The day started off well enough as I emerged victorious in the battle of the spanx, which was a comical, jiggling sight that will forever be kept between Husband and I. I wasn't fucking around with my lady bulges, so I enlisted control top panty hose, a full coverage bra, and a set of spanx that should have been labeled "holy shit" strength control. It was a "can't breathe, can't eat" situation, but I looked really good and had great posture all day. I was also smart enough to do my hair and makeup before the richter-scale-eight jigglefest, which was fortunate because as soon as Husband pulled my dress on over my Barbie-stiff torso, the phone started to blow up.

Our poor Aunt was on her own with unexpected family at the house, and panicking over unfinished tasks for the funeral/reception. At this point, she and I had built a lot of trust, as I had handled many difficult decisions and ran pretty much all the errands that week to her satisfaction, which is why she was calling me about all this. I ended up almost making her panic worse, as I had a small oops with a picture frame we were putting together. One squirt of super glue later kept that from being a crisis.
With that issue handled, we were off to the church.

The only other real hitch I ran into for the day was during the viewing before mass, when I finally saw the Nana and it all hit me. She was gone. She wasn't in the back room getting dressed. She wasn't taking a nap. She wasn't just feeling under the weather and we'd see her tomorrow. This was it.
As we proceeded to the front of the church to continue the ceremony, it dawned on me that Husband and I were at the front of the procession, set to be front and center to the Nana as Father blessed her. I tried. I tried to suck it up and tell myself I could stand there, looking at her, and not freak out.

I could not. As we got within view of her I completely lost it and bolted off to the side wing of the church. Husband followed, and was able to help muffle my ridiculous sobs. I couldn't stop. It was borderline embarrassing. I had kept my cool for most of this ordeal, and now here I was in front of God and everyone weeping into the echoes of the high-ceiling church. In retrospect I realize this was a funeral procession and nobody even batted an eye at my display, beyond the small murmurs of people confirming that yes, we were close friends.

Again, though, I was able to reign it in after that and handle the few little bumps in the road for the rest of the day, and support the family throughout the proceedings. My mantra for the day was, "Don't worry, I'll handle it and you'll be happy." And I did. The mass was as it should be, and everything was well in hand in the aftermath as well. The Nana was a well loved woman.

Husband held himself together, as he often does when he has something to do. He wrote a beautiful eulogy, sharing the love and motherly support the Nana gave to all of us, and especially him during some harder times. Her place in their lives really brought all the brothers together for the day, as everyone seemed to relish in the memories of the Nana.

Once all was said and done, Husband and I opted to end the day on a further comforting note by picking up a ridiculous amount of junk fast food and eating it nekkid in our hotel room. There is nothing more relieving than ripping off your spanx and burying yourself in a family pack of McDonald's. I defy you to try it and not feel at least a little bit better after a rough day.
And that's all I have to say about that.