Thursday, 15 March 2018

I have to say ... I've actually been to a pleasant funeral. Short. No fucking priests of any kind. (Last time I was there I was near slapping the fucktard and his little basket of money.)

Normally the idea of a wake is one of the worst - I cannot imagine losing a spouse and then throwing a party. But, as it turns out ... Some people are just naturally cheerful, full of energy and celebratory - of life past and what's to come. That surprised me a little. My father's family were/are rather infamously life-loving lot. Especially two glasses of good vine in, stories begin to surface, dosed with cheer and laughter, many against my dad. The widow told - they lived under the same roof at some point, while my dad worked as an illustrator in a crystal factory - how dad once stole a girl from a professional boxer, who not only came after dad, but came with the whole band of army buddies and they transformed dad near to death - he got the pin of a belt buckle impaled into his skull among other things. She was laughing how he was dragged home by (the widow's father, dad's uncle) and you couldn't count how many eyes or teeth he actually had, the face was so fucked up - his own father said if he had a gun he's shoot him; so they just left him to sleep next to the bathtub, where it was cool and little kids came peeking and laughing at him.
      Funny, because the way my dad told that story, he was the one who beat the boxer guy for throwing stones into the pool or something, and then - depending on whom you ask - a whole division, nay, battalion, nay, brigade came after dad, and he only just lost by a narrow margin. "You should have seen them!" kind of a story.
      I need to ask these people for more info. I've only ever had dad as source, but the other versions are hilariously embarrassing!