Sunday, February 27, 2005

Buriel

Friday afternoon we buried my Grandma with my Grandpa. My mom shouldn't have worn mascara. We each dropped a daffodil into the hole with the gold painted concrete block that held the urn that held her ashes. After I read the following passage from Howard's End, my mother said, "She was a good mother and a great grandmother." She cried. My brother's girlfriend is the only one who touched her, including my father. No one else said anything, then we left.

"Some leave our life with tears, others with an insane frigidity; she had taken the middle course, which only rarer natures can pursue. She had kept proportion. She had told a little of her grim secret to her friends, but not too much; she had shut up her heart--almost, but not entirely. It is thus, if there is any rule, that we ought to die--neither as victim nor as fanatic, but as the seafarer who can greet with an equal eye the deep that he is entering, and the shore that he must leave."

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