It’s been a long (long) time since I’ve had an opportunity to write about the goings-on regarding this stupid, ridiculous situation I’ve found myself in.
Mostly it’s because I was busy with the last party. I prepped for two solid weeks, I cooked three kinds of dinner meat, I pickled 11 jars of red onions that got left at home, I cleaned out and organized her belongings to distribute among her friends and loved ones, my family cleaned and prepped. Visitors from Alabama, Indiana, Washington, and all parts of Michigan made the trip to the UP to attend.
I had a catholic burial, which much like the funerals, I don’t actually remember much of. Other than the priest can make holy water out of any water. On the deck just before the ceremony began, he asked us to give him some water to bless which, in turn, he would use to bless the graves. We used lake water on my request.
Later, we all wondered about the volume of water that could be blessed at one time. I mean, if he can bless a travel-sized shampoo bottle’s worth of water, why not the entire lake? Give everyone a quick baptism by sun and warmth and taco dinner.
This part I do remember: I interrupted the ceremony because I forgot I’d brought the summit rum. Summit rum is what was left of a bottle of Captain Morgan that Z and Alex found on a mountain climb in 2010. I’d brought it with me and completely forgot that I wanted to do that. I hurriedly cried out a little “WAIT!!” and then passed out shots just after we started filling in the grave. As customary, we dropped some onto our departed, we toasted, and I finished off that business with the proclamation that the drink itself was really, really bad. Comically bad.
We all went back to the house to eat and swim and commune in our tragedy and losses.
I hated it as much as I loved it.
I have so many thoughts and feels and moments from this past week. And I’ll get to them. But for now, it’s done. Tomorrow I go back to work, nurse my sunburn and bug-bites, and re-start.
0 stars. Would not recommend.