Oh yeah, you know this is gonna be good. So bad, like the extra piece of candy you should never have eaten...
Moving on...
I'm half Puerto Rican. I can honestly, sadly, count the number of times I have been exposed to my culture. Perhaps I should make more of an effort to immerse myself in that part of myself, however, I find that when I do get exposed,l I'm so soaked with it, I find myself full enough to last me a few years. And ladies and gentlemen, nothing can get you in touch with a culture than a funeral.
Puerto Rican funerals are something to be admired indeed. Right next to Italian funerals, they are full of drama and confusion. I have to say J. Lo has never won an Oscar for any of her roles for the Puerto Ricans of the world (why would she?...except for Enough...any chica that can kick ass like that should be given an Oscar) . However, if the Academy went to one of my families funerals, you know they'd be handing them out left and right.
It all starts with the initial finding out the news. Everyone is sad, crying, screaming, questioning 'Por que Dios?', screaming, talking to family for hours about the details of the death, screaming, and then there is the flurry of transportation arrangements. This job always falls upon me. Since I'm the smarty pants of the family, I'm elected to the job that uses most of the brain. It amazes me how so many grown people in my family cannot handle making transportation arrangements. You want screaming? You should be in the room with me when I'm trying to make bereavement travel arrangements. First of all, that thing they call a bereavement fare, bullshit. There is NO SUCH THING. It isn't cheaper to fly when you are in mourning, it's more expensive. And the airlines should be shot for taking advantage of people in their weakest moments. They know we have no choice but to pay. However, I do find the deals. They usually include an insane stop somewhere totally not where I'm going, but whatever, I save $300.
Once we arrive where we need to be (either Florida or Puerto Rico, where the latest corpse is chillin'), there is the awkward drive straight to the funeral home. At my uncle's funeral, my mother and I flew while wearing our mourning attire. Then in the car we applied our makeup while my uncle drove and my aunt Maritza chatted to us in a language we totally don't understand and we totally Spanglished to her just to make her think we really wanted to talk.
Yes ladies and gentleman, I admit, I don't speak spanish. I can understand it when it's spoken Jerry kids slow to me, but I have such trouble speaking in the Speedy Gonzalez pace of it....more on this later, we are about to arrive at the funeral home.
I don't know what it is about funerals, wakes, ect. But people, especially in my family, get so emotional when they first see that body in the casket...unless you're my mother. When arrived at the funeral home for my uncle's funeral, and my mother saw her father when she walked in and went nuts. You have to understand, my family sees each other so infrequently. Funerals and weddings are the only way we keep in touch with each other. No one calls, no one writes, no one visits for the hell of it. (except for me, but I'm quitting that job...I get too much bitching if I don't do it enough and nobody reciprocates the favor to me). My grandfather, in particular, doesn't visit at all. Him being at my uncle's funeral was a shocker. So, my mother, in all her emotional instability, pushes me aside as I go to hug him, and exclaims "MY DADDY" almost on the top of her lungs. Nevermind that Uncle Frank is just down the isle waiting for his respects to be paid--but then again he's dead, he's not really going anywhere...So my mom makes a scene fawning over her dad and not letting me near him (never mind that he's my grandfather too).
I somehow pry mom off abuelo to go make that sickening walk down the aisle to view Uncle Frank (my mom's brother in law btw). As we approach the casket, we see another huge spectacle of emotion. You see in funerals, the casket is at the end of an isle, sitting there pretty for all to see and there is usually a kneeling bench for people to kneel at while they view the casket. Some just stand there to view the body, others (like in my family) offer a prayer. After you view the body, you'll go behind you and backtrack to the chairs and usually offer condolences to the family who is seated in the front row. Well...Uncle Frank's mother, in all her emotional instability, (she's old she's allowed, my mom however...needs Prozac...more on that another post) took her chair and sat it right smack beside her baby boy's. Now I guess I can understand the gesture. I mean if I lost a child at any age, I'd probably want to never leave the child's side...but I can see how this is just a little over the top. And I also know why Uncle Frank's mom did it. Many elders in the family, especially women, like to find any opportunity to instill their dona status. I saw this as just one of many ways. You had no choice but to acknowlege Dona Diaz immediately after paying respects to Uncle Frank. Just seems to me another way of this woman saying it's all about her. Call me a bitch, but that's how I see it.
Everyone at these things has to make their emotions shown. Has to somehow put in that "This is about me too". Please my aunts at my grandmother's funeral practically threw themselves in the casket with her, screaming the line you always hear in telenovelas "NO PUEDE SER" and calling "Mami" repeatedly. My uncles practically had to carry the casket to the plot with them still in it. I know it's their mother in there, but you know...chisizzle a bit ya know?
Of course after you pay respects to the body, most of the wake is spent socializing with family (you know since we never see each other in between). However, in Puerto Rican tradition (and others I'm sure) we also do like a mini funeral at the wake. There is a sermon, speeches, family sharings, songs, ect. Now this would be endearing to me, if it were in ENGLISH. Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking spanish at all...but this is what didn't make sense to me. My cousins, like me, don't know spanish. So sadly, they had no clue what was being said at their own father's funeral/wake. But the service was strictly in Spanish because Dona Diaz didn't understand English. Well excuse me. What kills me is no bothers to plan for an English translator. Instead, off the cuff, Uncle Frank's nephew tries to translate for his dad (the preacher...of course), but even he goes "Forget it, I can't keep up", after a half hour. Yeah, the service was longer than a half hour...all Puerto Rican services are longer than 200 days....
My mother said it best when describing Puerto Rican funerals to me...you pray, you kneel, you pray some more, you cry, you pray...you get the picture. At grandma's we must have said every Catholic prayer there was in the Bible. You would have thought we were burying the pope there was so much praying and kneeling. And there's nothing like praying when you are praying in Spanish. It's bad enough I'm a horible Catholic and don't know my prayers. I can't even say them in English while they are doing them in Spanish (except for the major prayers-Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be, Apostles Creed). So while they are doing the insanely long stations of the cross, all I can do is kneel and go "whatever they are saying, whatever they are saying, whatever they are saying" under my breath. Nothing like walking around a crowded room praying in the hot hot Florida/Puerto Rico heat --in black to boot.
However, my family isn't all gloom and doom during funerals. After the formal religious service and display of emotions there's....REPASS...yes, the part where everyone goes to someone's house and eats food donated by the entire family. In most NORMAL cases, repass is as solemn as the funeral, just toned down. Usually you hear the death story again, or other stories of the person while they were alive. However, in my family repass takes on a whole new definition. It starts at the funeral home.
During my uncle's funeral, it had been after a particularly long period of contact. Also there were apparently more of us than usual. So my Aunt maritza thought it be a great photo op. At the funeral home we were all getting together and taking pictures, all the aunts and uncles in one, cousins in another, my grandfather with all his kids, then one with grandkids...on, and on, and on...Mind you Uncle Frank was in the other room just...chillin'..but don't worry, we didn't leave him out. My cousins in all their grief took turns taking pictures of themselves with their dad....
...
Yeah...I thought it was creepy too. Don't want to remember my dad like that when he goes (he's not going anytime soon...better not...). Hey they even developed the pictures after the real funeral and we got to look at them...yeah...
After the many Kodak moments, we head over to an aunt's house. What's nice about my family is they belong to a church and people do things for them. so we had all the food provided. My cousins, for their dad, went out and got a cake with his picture on it, which was...endearing...not sure if it was gosh or not...but endearing. But the food isn't what makes my family special at repass...what makes my family special is...after a funeral...they sure know how to freaking party.
Yeah, my family usually sends a first cousin (my cousin Consep cause he's like a sucker) out to the liquor store to stock up and someone plays DJ and the booze and chonga music are going all night long. My mother made marguaritas at my uncle's repass. She used a whole bottle of triple sec in one batch (and she's a bartender, how sad). She also used a whole hell of alot of other shit. I took one sip of my glass and thought my liver was going to give out. I gave the glass to my mom who had both mine and hers (and yet her liver is stil intact--for now).
Bottom line is my family gets shit faced and dances the night away at the repass. While it's nice to not be all sad and gloom, I still like to be somewhat reflective at the end of a funeral. At a friend's funeral, we didn't party or anything, but we did meet at a local Friday's and some people did a shot in his name. They didn't bust a groove or drink themselves into oblivion or anything. My family however...that's what they do. By 3am (the funeral was at 11am to give you an idea of how long this was going on) my cousin, Sisa, and I locked ourselves in my aunt's room and just sat to watch a movie. I think we both had enough of the party atmosphere and longed for a quiet bed. Eventually, we both fell asleep while the music blared and our family partied. Around 4am, I awoke to my cousin, Lily, lifting my dress up and taking a picture of me showing my undies to the world. The thought that crossed my mind was...
"i'm not freaking drunk, but yet i'm the one with the embarassing pictures. how does this happen?"
And that my friends is a Puerto Rican funeral...
