Funeral

My uncle passed away recently and I had to go the funeral in La Crosse last week. It’s like a three and a half hour drive and it rained pretty much the whole way. Dumb ass me wore my usual work clothes (dockers, checkered “accountant” type shirt) and everyone else there had suits and ties on. Right off the bat I felt a little out of place. And while that half of the family is pretty cool and normal I don’t get to see them too often and don’t know them all that well. The last time I was in the area was for my aunt/uncle’s 50th wedding anniversary two years ago.

My cousins are all in their 40’s and have multiple kids. I’m 31 and consider my penis my baby. While they can tell hunting and fishing stories for hours I’ve only killed rabbits in the backyard and don’t even like touching fish. As you can imagine I don’t tell them too many of my stories. “Yeah, last summer I caught a 43” northern!” “Yeah, last fall I took a day off just so I could whack off six times!” Nope, wouldn’t fly.

I’ve only been to seven funerals my whole life. Four were my grandparents but those were a long time ago. One was my old roommate’s brother but I didn’t know him too well. Another was a friend’s father, didn’t know him either. Then there was my old vacation friend whose father passed away. That one got to me a little more than the others (you’d think the grandparents would). I spent lots of time sitting on the beach talking with him listening to stories about the war and other vacation trips he had taken. Good man, hated to see him go.

And then there was my uncle’s funeral.

First you have to understand me. Usually I’m emotionally detached keeping my distance from anything like a relationship. I haven’t cried over a woman in the past ten years (except for those tears caused by vaginal odors wafting towards my nose). Then there’s the other side of me that cried watching Dan in Real Life. Yeah, I don’t get it either.

Why I just got a little 4lb puppy I have no fucking clue. Who can’t get emotional over a puppy that follows you around and pretty much depends on you for everything?

Anyway, sitting there in the church I remembered the fishing trips my father and I would go on with my uncle when I was a little kid. My uncle knew every hot spot within 50 miles of La Crosse. He set us up one time in this little cove where I’d toss my line out and within ten seconds I’d have something on the line. It was almost too easy (hell, if I could do it…). He’d take me on his snowmobile and cruise around. Always the nicest guy, always joking around. Even at the 50th wedding anniversary he was joking about the golf ball sized tumor that was on his liver.

His oldest son spoke at the funeral. He talked about how his dad was not only his dad but a friend. How he had raised his kids with a firm hand but yet was always there for them if they needed something. How he and his wife spent 52 great years together.

The pastor talked about how my uncle was a mentor to many of the church’s confirmands.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the whole church, including mine.

I actually moped around for most of the weekend. I didn’t really feel like doing much after all that. As soon as I got home I showered and headed up to the bar for some serious drinking. All I could think about were all the good times I got to spend with my uncle. Oh, and my dad’s comment: you better wear a suit to my funeral.

Yeah, I don’t think I could go through that. Time to step up the drinking. It’s a race to the finish, mom and pop.