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February 25, 2005
RIP
It was a good day considering it revolved around death.For some reason I always look for little coincidental signs when heading to the cemetary. I remember when my grandfather died, I was sitting in the back of a limo following the hearse. As we pulled onto the expressway, the first car that passed was a catallac - the same model and color as my grandfather's. Its liscence plate was "2 LIFE".
Today we gathered at a church for a mass for frankie. At the end, when we were filing out, frank sr. (frankie's dad), met an old friend who was pretty shaken up. This guy, who never bought the newspaper, had just by chance bought one for the hell of it. He opened it up straight to the obituaries. He read frankie's obit, and recognized the names. He lives two blocks from the church, so he showed up, kind of on a whim. Turns out, at one time, he was frank sr's best friend and 1st business partner. The business fell apart in 1964, and they had somehow lost touch and had not spoken since. It was an emotional reunion.
From there, we went to the cemetary. I drove my friend's mini-van with his family, since they were shaken up too, and my friend had to make some phone calls. (In keeping with the tread, his cesspool backed up, so he needed to get it pumped out while we were doing the funeral thing, so everyone could meet up there afterwards).
Driving home from the cemetary, it was sleeting and snowing. For some reason that we can't figure out, the defroster stopped working. It was still blowing hot air on the windshield, but it would'nt unfog. We tried hot air, cold air, open windows - nothing worked except for napkins as we continuously, furiously wiped the inside of the windshield non-stop in order to see the road. During this time, "Highway to Hell" came on the radio. We started singing to break the tension. As the song was ending, I joked "Hey, its only frankie fucking with us!". As if on cue, the DJ let out a weird laugh and said, "Ain't that the truth!". We all were laughing our asses off.
We got back to my friend's house, the cesspool was taken care of, food was cooked, beer and drinks were bought, and there was a full house. Everyone kind of opened up and let go. I had a great conversation with frank sr, talking about my perspective on frankie. He really opened up, and told me a lot of what frankie had gone through. Everyone was really opening up. Frankie was a bad-boy rebel, so we were all telling stories of the bad things we did as teenagers. Frank sr. learned a few things he didn't know about us "kids", but he seemed to love it. After, the bad stories, the current kids started coming upstairs, and seemed very curious and comforted and warmed by the atmosphere - just great vibes. They got a sense that despite frankie's death, life was really still good.
Then after a while, it turned into an "Irish" funeral. Loud, loaded, relief. I didn't drink much, but others did. I stole my room mate's keys from his car that was warming up outside, since he and his GF were drunk, and he was about to drive his kids home. He looked like he was gonna get pissed for a minute, then just went with the flow. The minor non-incident passed, and everyone continued with the good vibes. Talking, telling jokes, telling stories, and occasionally stairing at the coffee table. On the table sat a framed picture of frankie, ...a sparkle in his eye, and the biggest smile I ever saw on a face. RIP.
Posted by Ocean at February 25, 2005 12:57 AM