The Twenty-Six Year Old Hug or Why One Should Never Laugh in a Deserted Funeral Home
At around 4:30 AM on Monday, May 30, 2011 my grandmother died.
If it hadn't been for the keyboard, I would have missed what occurred at 9:45 AM on Friday, June 3, 2011.
That's when, five days after she died, my grandmother spoke to me for the last time.
On Thursday morning we were sitting in the auditorium at The Peanut's school, waiting for her kindergarten farewell concert to begin. My mother was going over the funeral plans with The Wife, my mother-in-law, and me. 'Nana', as we have always called her, is a deeply devoted Christian woman. She had been ill for a long time so death's approach was not exactly a surprise. When she discussed her impending funeral with my mother, she told her that she wanted several hymns sung at her service. The only problem with that turned out to be that there was no piano or organ available for Mom to play at the funeral home. My mother-in-law, who has been taking piano lessons for a year now, offered us the use of her electric keyboard so Mom didn't have to lead everyone in singing the songs A Capella.
Friday morning, the day of the funeral, I drove over to my in-law's house to pick up the keyboard and its three piece stand. I loaded it up in the back of my car and drove over to the funeral home. I pulled up the winding
If it hadn't been for the keyboard, I would have missed what occurred at 9:45 AM on Friday, June 3, 2011.
That's when, five days after she died, my grandmother spoke to me for the last time.
On Thursday morning we were sitting in the auditorium at The Peanut's school, waiting for her kindergarten farewell concert to begin. My mother was going over the funeral plans with The Wife, my mother-in-law, and me. 'Nana', as we have always called her, is a deeply devoted Christian woman. She had been ill for a long time so death's approach was not exactly a surprise. When she discussed her impending funeral with my mother, she told her that she wanted several hymns sung at her service. The only problem with that turned out to be that there was no piano or organ available for Mom to play at the funeral home. My mother-in-law, who has been taking piano lessons for a year now, offered us the use of her electric keyboard so Mom didn't have to lead everyone in singing the songs A Capella.
Friday morning, the day of the funeral, I drove over to my in-law's house to pick up the keyboard and its three piece stand. I loaded it up in the back of my car and drove over to the funeral home. I pulled up the winding
