Memorial for Shirley

I feel like every time I go to Boyfriend Jon's hometown, it's as detailed as an adventure story. There's so much to do, so much to see, so many stories to be told. I meet roughly 75-100 people each time, maybe a 1/3 of which I've seen before but can't for the life of me remember from where or when.

It doesn't matter; they always seem to remember me as they throw their arms around me and kiss my cheek. None of the 'keep the waists away' kind of hugs. Nope, it's a full body gleeful hug where even our toes bump into each other.

My personal bubble of space can't exist. They clearly don't see it, and they're so genuinely warm and welcoming, that i know that the concept of a personal bubble is completely alien to them. So although i'm overwhelmed, confused, and not sure why this older man whom I've never met is kissing me on the cheek (which is normally grounds for a broken nose in my book), I smile as warmly as i can, and go with it.

Many of them I'm certain they have never set eyes on me before, but they pick me out of the crowd and make a beeline for me. Then they ask about my life, complement me on how pretty i am, and tell Boyfriend Jon that he needs to hold on to this one...she's so perfect for you, you look so good together, so happy.

They put their arms around me and steer me to other people that i need to meet, until my head spins with the sea of faces i'm desperately trying to remember. More hugs, more kisses, have you eaten? when are you two going to settle down? How much is your apartment? How is your mother and father? Does it ever stop raining in Seattle? Pick the toddler nephews up, then immediately put him down, then back up again....and quickly back down after he tells me "i'm pooping right now".

This last weekend, we drove 800 miles each way to be present for the funeral of Boyfriend Jon's grandmother Shirley. I expected such a different scenario than i witnessed. People dressed in everything from full suits, to matching hawaiian shirts, jeans and hoochie-mama makeup. But no one cared about the clothes. They were all there to support each other as they shed tears and remembered Shirley Jones.

Each eulogy showed a different side of her. How she welcomed everyone into her life in such a way that they couldn't help respect and be in awe of her. How even hooligans and trouble makers, referred to her as Mama and wouldn't hesitate to cut her grass if she asked (and sometimes even if she didn't). How she understood that children will be children and how seemingly trivial moments would stay with them forever. How much her culture was important to be passed on. How her family meant EVERYTHING to her.

It wasn't so much a gathering of grieving family as friends as it was a testament that she was an amazing lady and how happy they all were that they had the privilege to know her. Although the tears were flowing freely, there was a release at the end that i don't remember ever feeling at any previous funeral i had ever attended. It was like a great balloon filled with grief suddenly popped and it all dissipated within seconds of the final song. Then the family stood at the front and were hugged by a long line of friends and family. There was food, there was more singing, there was a beautiful hula done by Jon's mother, then there was cleanup, then we went home.

The grief was still there, overlaid by everyday life. We jumped into the pool, swam around with the nephews, threw balls for the dogs, ate pizza, played video games. Then very early the next morning, we made the 800 mile drive home.

I know Boyfriend Jon and his family will never in a million years forget her, but the funeral was a perfect cathartic release. And now, life will move forward for everyone.