The kids and I stayed at my sister's home Saturday and Sunday night, but David went back home on Saturday evening. He had to pack and be out early Monday morning for his flight to Costa Rica. So I was on my own.
It wasn't good. Everyone was upset about Grandma, of course. But the usual tensions were there, too. My sister and I do not get along very well, and it was stressful. Whenever we are there, I feel that we are intruding. She snaps at me a lot. So I try to stay out of their way. At one point, Sam asked why I kept washing dishes, and I told him it was the only thing I knew I could do to help out without getting yelled at.
I helped the three older kids (aka the Triplets - Sam and the twins) write down their notes for their speech at the funeral, and I put together something from their words. Only to be told by my sister that they were rewriting it: "They would rather do it in their own words - including your son. But they were afraid to tell you, because you tend to snap at them."
I had words with My Son, who likes to make tons of snarky comments to me and Micah when he is there, so that he fits in more. The audience likes it. Micah and I feel like shit.
Apparently my mother feels that I need to be more disciplined with Sofia, since she is so badly behaved.
So I tried to stay out of the way, and not talk.
I am psychically bruised.
It was wonderful to read the messages from so many of my friends on Facebook. I am blessed to be surrounded by wonderful caring friends and community.
But there, too, was a source of disappointment. I am DEEPLY bothered by the complete silence from most of the moms from my T-21 Online group. It really bothers me that almost none of them felt the need to say anything. So I kept checking, to see if maybe I'd just missed something. I had not.
I am hurt. I am sad.
And I miss my Grandma. A lot.
The funeral, however, was lovely. Really nice. She would have been proud. All three of her sons spoke. My dad, being oldest, was first. Since he is not an emotional guy, he was able to speak very clearly and talk about what it was like growing up with her. My uncles are more emotional, and couldn't speak much. My sister and my cousins all spoke. And Sam and the twins spoke.
I had the honor of singing Psalm 23 in Hebrew (The Lord is My Shepherd...) as well as the Memorial Prayer. I figured singing is my own personal gift I had to offer. I think it was ok. The rabbi (my parents' rabbi, who knows my family well) liked the arrangement of Psalm 23 - it was a Zamir arrangement.
After the service, we went back to my sister's house for food and stories. Everyone has a Grandma Doris story to share. She was known for her very candid - and LOUD - observations. Like "Oh, you gained weight", or "Wow, look at the backside on her!" She could drink us all under the table, and we shared a toast in her honor. She was a riot, and a good, caring matriarch.
I miss her.