21 hours of Thanksgiving

Thursday, November 24^th, 2016

Los Angeles, CA and New York, New York

It’s 8am and I am waking up for my flight to New York City! I am going to spend my long Thanksgiving weekend at Sarah’s temporary brownstone in Brooklyn. This is going to be awesome!

I drive myself to LAX and quickly realize that the economy parking lot is full. I was afraid this would happen. I make the snap decision to wing-it and drive up Sepulveda until I find a residential neighborhood with no parking restrictions. I grab the first spot I see, order an Uber, and hold my breath for a hassle-free airport experience.

Luckily, all goes smoothly and I am at my gate 45 minutes early. I grab a cup of coffee and call my parents to say hi. They are about to start their Thanksgiving dinner and won’t stop talking about their special recipe for mac and cheese. Eventually I get off the phone and have just enough time to download the second Harry Potter audiobook before I board my flight.

The flight is smooth and I land at JFK at 7:05pm Eastern Time. Whoa, it’s cold here. Per Sarah’s instructions I find the cab line, which is completely empty except for a couple who can’t stop making out. They cut in front of me, but I don’t even think they saw me, so I don’t take it personally. I wait less than a minute for my cab and then am off to Sarah’s house!

When I arrive, I cannot believe how beautiful Sarah’s place is. It has super tall ceilings, large windows and dark brown, wooden floors. The entire space feels very open and has a strange old world feel to it. After about 5 minutes of getting settled, we decide to head over to Little Italy for our Thanksgiving dinner. It’s dark and rainy, but after only 2 train rides we arrive. The restaurant is pretty empty (to be fair it’s almost 9pm on Thanksgiving). There is a small family blocking the front door and their adolescent kid will not move. Sarah chirps “watch it” as we push past. I can already tell that New York fits Sarah like a glove.

The host and servers at the restaurant are obviously Italian and are extremely over the top in their presentation of the table and menus. We each order a glass of wine and examine the menu. I order chicken in a cream sauce with veggies on the side and Sarah has the scallops. The food is delicious and we have a lot of catching up to do.

Sarah has to work tomorrow, so after dinner we head back to her place and drink one more glass of wine in her living room. Around midnight Sarah really needs to get to sleep and I am not tired at all. After all, today only had 21 hours for me. I take a quick shower and lay in bed staring at the celling. Before I know it, I am asleep and my first day in NYC is complete.

GPS saves the day.

Saturday, October 8, 2016

San Angelo, TX

Oh crap! It’s 9am and my text messages are going off. I am supposed to be in the lobby but I am still bed. This is bad. I tear out bed, throw on clothes, brush my hair and spend about 20 seconds brushing my teeth. At 9:10am I run into the lobby. I am officially late to Mema’s funeral.

We all climb into the limousine and no one says anything about my late arrival. The driver goes slowly to church. We arrive by 9:30am, with plenty of time to spare. As we enter the church I see two strangers sitting in the pews. My parents recognize them right away and they exchange hugs with my parents and me and my brother. The hugs last for a beat too long. Soon I realize they are Bill and Barbara, old family friends. To be fair I have only met them a few times. 

We are shown to a side corridor, where we will be escorted to the front row of the service. Other family members are around, including Jack, Mema’s husband. He looks sick and tired; thankfully, his kids are there to take care of him. I also notice that almost all the women are wearing some form of the Concho pearl, which is a special freshwater pearl only found in San Angelo. I find this classy and wish that I had one too.

After about 15 minutes of standing around, the service begins. We are escorted to the front row and I sit in between my Mom and brother. The service feels pretty standard. It starts with some music and then a prayer. The minister says something about death being the hardest on the living, which only makes me think of my Mom. I start to cry, but pull it back together within a few minutes. After the minister’s sermon we listen to more music and then the service is over. My Dad, brother and other pall bearers move the casket into the hearse. From here we all drive across town to the cemetery. We have police escorts (which really isn’t a big deal in a town as small as San Angelo).

The graveside ceremony is brief. Some people are crying but I am holding strong. After a few prayers we are ushered away from the gravesite. The minster tells us that they lower the casket after everyone leaves, because its less emotional that way. I appreciate this.  

Our last stop is back at the church for snacks and fellowship. The drive seems to be taking longer than expected. Eventually we realize that our driver is lost. I am annoyed that I am the only one in the car with GPS and begrudgingly pull up a map to the church. Once we finally arrive, we are on the wrong side of the parking lot. My Dad is frustrated and insists that we all get out and walk. After about a 5 minute we arrive at the back of the fellowship hall where an extended family member just happens to be standing around. He lets us into the back door and we are clearly the last to arrive. Minister Paul insists that we get some food. I grab a plate with a few sandwiches.  There is also coffee, thank goodness. We all sit with family for a while. Most of the talk is about how various family member have been doing; it’s pretty unemotional.

Eventually it’s time to head back to the hotel. We drop my brother off who heads back to Austin immediately. My parents and I take breaks in our respective rooms. 

Later that day we get together to do some sightseeing. We start out at the Sonic. I am not eating sugar so I end up with a cup of iced tea. We make a quick stop by my stepgrandmother’s apartment where we visit and look at pictures for about an hour. From here we take a walk along the river and a drive through San Angelo’s nicest neighborhood. My parents are considering retiring here one day. Ugh.         

Finally, it’s almost dinner time. We go to downtown and Dad suggests Peepsi’s which looks old and authentic. I ask what kind of wine they serve and they pull a bottle of Yellow Tail out from underneath the counter and reply “red”. I decide to go for a beer. We sit out back and listen to a guy with a guitar. Eventually we order some wings to go with our beer. It’s a pretty nice time. After a few hours, we decide to go walk around a little bit more. It turns out that there is a free concert in the street. We stop for another half hour so. I am very charmed by San Angelo right now; I am also a little drunk.  

On the way back to the car a guy asks us for money. We politely decline but he follows us for half a block. I am not worried, but my Dad tells him to go away.

Eventually we are back at the hotel. Tomorrow is my flight home.

Mr. Bill

Friday, October 7, 2016

San Angelo, TX

It’s 9:30am and I am waking up for a 10:30am departure. It’s the day of Mema’s viewing and we are finally wrapping up our to-do list. Around 10:20am I wander into the hotel lobby and put together a plate of bacon and eggs. My Mom arrives at 10:30am, right on time.

We start out the day with one last stop at the funeral home. We are there to drop off our picture albums and a few last minute additions to Mema’s casket. I have brought a picture of us cooking together. As we are shown to the viewing room, I am gulping coffee and chomping down Altoids in an effort not to burst into tears. However, when we enter I can no longer hold it together. My Mom gives me a brief hug and then we are quickly back to business.

Once everything is settled, we sign the guest book and head back to the hotel. My Dad has arrived and we need to go pick him up. After a 30-minute break at the hotel we all pile into the pickup and head over to Henry’s for lunch. Dad is very chatty about everything except for Mema. My Mom and I are emotionally exhausted so we just let him talk.

Lunch is extremely filling and afterwards we need to head back to the funeral home because my Dad has one last addition for Mema’s casket. It’s Mr. Bill. Mr. Bill is an old dog toy that Mema gave to Millicent about 10 years ago. Millicent passed earlier this year, so my Dad’s idea is that Mema can deliver Mr.Bill to Millicent in heaven. I find this mildly inappropriate, but everyone deals with death in their own way.

As we approach the funeral home we recognize my Mom’s adopted sister, Rhonda, in the parking lot. As we approach my Dad and I are friendly. We all hug and say our hellos. Rhonda has come alone and brought pictures for the photo albums. She gives me the pictures and then sends me off into the viewing room so that she can talk to my Mom. I feel like I should stay but Rhonda is very pushy.

Entering the room for the second time is much easier. I flip through her photos and find that most of them are glamour shots of her daughters. I pull out the few that include Mema and find space for them in the photo albums. In the meanwhile, Dad sneaks Mr. Bill into the casket; I silently roll my eyes.

After a few more minutes we decide to go and rescue my Mom. Rhonda is talking her head off and my Mom looks very stressed. Eventually we separate the two and decide to take a quick field trip to the Belvedere cemetery. Several members of my Dad’s family are buried here. It takes us some time to find the headstones, but it’s a nice day outside and this is a good distraction. After an hour or so we head back to the hotel to meet up with my brother and get ready for the viewing.

It turns out that my brother booked his own room and I am grateful. Admittedly, 3 rooms for four people seems excessive, but we all like our privacy. Once we arrive at the hotel, I sit down with Mike to catch up. We talk mostly about family gossip. After about 30 minutes of conversation and one cup of coffee we head up to our separate rooms to get ready for the night.

I spend about 20 minutes crying/meditating and attempting to get the emotional side of my brain in line with the rational side. I also take a few minutes to iron my clothes and put on make-up. Around 4pm we gather in the lobby again.

We are the first to arrive at the funeral home and each spend a few minutes in the viewing room. From there we gather in the lobby to look at photo albums, watch a looping video of the same photos, and eat teeny, tiny sandwiches, which were provided by the church. I manage to spend the first hour sitting in a big comfy chair, but as the room fills I am pressured to go and visit with distant family members. I spend a significant chunk of time taking to one of Mema’s cousins who own a ranch outside of San Angelo. I also take my turn with Rhonda to help give my Mom space to talk to others. After about 2 hours my feet are starting to hurt and I hoping that the room clears out soon. Eventually everyone leaves and we all pile back into the truck.

For dinner we decide on the Cork and Pig. Dad and Mike partake in beer and pizza, Mom orders a separate pizza and I get a pork chop and wine. The meal is pretty nice and the wine is even nicer. After dinner we call it an early night and all retreat into our separate hotel rooms. Tomorrow morning is the funeral and I am already worried about keeping it together.