Funerals...

I'm not real good at funerals. I tend to cry a lot. That may not be that unusual. Do you remember Love Actually and Liam Neeson's character's wife's funeral at the beginning of the movie? We hadn't met the wife, but I cried. Kristina didn't understand why I cried. I can't help it; funerals are sad. I don't consciously think about other funerals I've attended or anything. It's just a gut reaction, an overload of emotions--I cry.

What brought this up? Frank's grandmother died Saturday morning. It wasn't unexpected. She was 90, had Alzheimer's and bronchitis, and was getting weaker. Still, I cried a lot at the viewing and funeral. Frank thought I should be tougher. He should know me better than that.

A neighbor made Frank's family ravioli and wedding soup. Note that they just call it "wedding soup", but every time, I thought, you mean Italian wedding soup. We also had wedding soup at the reception. Dad thought they might have been confused, but I don't think the Italians have a funeral soup.

There were lots of Italians at the viewing and funeral. Frank's mom asked if I could tell which were the mafia. I assumed they all were.

At one point at the viewing, I somehow wound up in the receiving line with Frank's mom, uncle, and cousin. So, people were kissing my cheek and saying they were sorry for my loss. I know they weren't sure how I fit because I wasn't Italian. I got myself quickly out of that line.

Frank's 3.5-year-old niece was at the viewing for a little while and the funeral. Someone commented that viewings aren't much fun for kids. Yeah, but for the rest of us--it's a blast.

I stayed with my parents one night and told them about the funeral. I mentioned Frank's cousin Sonny (who I was next to in the receiving line). My parents thought about Sonny Corleone from The Godfather. See? My Italian stereotypes are genetic.