Subscribe to PostsJust as I was leaving my brother’s funeral, Creepy Uncle flagged me down. He quickly walked up to me, his cheeks wet with tears and his eyes droopy with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, man,” he said, hugging me. “Brenen will be missed.” His hug was lingering and I was uncomfortable. I’m not that crazy about Creepy Uncle because he’s…well, creepy.
When I last saw Creepy Uncle, he was wearing an American flag button-up and a Nascar cap. he insisted that if I ever run into Jane Fonda in Atlanta that I should call her a ‘commie bitch’. Creepy Uncle isn’t that bright. He’s the type of guy that would tell a racist joke to a black person or accidentally shoot his best friend while hunting.
Looking over his dandruff speckled shoulder, I could see Creepy Uncle’s girlfriend who Brenen had nicknamed He/She. He/She towers over Creepy Uncle and she has broad shoulders, big feet and tanned, weatherworn cheeks. He/She gave me a sympathetic but toothy grin as she waited for Creepy Uncle and I noticed that they had matching mullets. I don’t know what came over me, but I reached up and gently patted the back of Creepy Uncle’s head and tightened my hug.
This is how life works: One minute I’m sipping a lemondrop martini. I’m giggling and flirting with boys on the rooftop lounge of Atlanta’s Glenn Hotel and the next minute, I am in Indiana for my brother’s funeral. Never in a million years could I have imagined that I would be standing in the Mormon church that I hadn’t set foot in for fifteen years, hugging my Creepy Uncle. Or hugging my science teacher that gave me one detention too many. Or hugging a friend I hadn’t seen since high school. That’s the funny thing about funerals- people come together in ways that are stranger than fiction.
Despite having drifted apart over the years, my dad’s cousin Dave dropped everything and drove ten hours to be by his side. They grew up together and I’ve seen pictures of them as kids with toys in their hands and later, as young men with bottles of Michelob Lite in their hands. The time and miles suddenly had no relevance and as they talked, I noticed a youthful spark in my dad’s eyes that I have not seen in years.
And not that there was ever a major beef between them, it was unusual to see Mom hugging my stepmom. Brenen’s son, Zaden, calls my stepmom Min-Min. By week’s end, they had developed an unspoken but strong sisterhood and Mom and Min-Min were often seen hugging or sharing a few quiet words in a corner somewhere…
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Marja
March 1st, 2010 at 11:05
Funerals are a funny thing. So many people turned up for my step fathers memorial service we ran out of room and people were crowded out in the hall. I thought to myself, “Who TOLD all of you ??”
totallytyler Reply:
March 1st, 2010 at 5:11 pm
yeah, hey, theres this thing called a newspaper. it tends to tell readers when people have died and their services are…
Marja
March 2nd, 2010 at 11:22
Well I know that ! lol ! But lots of these people were from out of state and town.
Pinky
March 2nd, 2010 at 21:54
Your description of your creepy uncle and he/she is priceless. RIP Brenen.
totallytyler Reply:
March 2nd, 2010 at 11:26 pm
lol i wish i had a real photo of them. then you’d really see…
Pinky
March 2nd, 2010 at 23:30
Now God don’t like ugly…that wouldn’t be nice!
I would totally enjoy it though.
Tracen
January 20th, 2012 at 15:50
It’s always a pleasure to hear from someone with eperxtsie.