it’s what passes for news around here. the winds have been fierce lately and the smiling anchor lady with the mouth too full of teeth too white and helmet hair too stiff informs me that a “beloved family pet” has died in a south seattle neighborhood. falling limbs blown from a messy, unkempt clearing knocked the life right out of him. he’s one dead fido alright.

“i just want that lot cleaned up!” is what the lady squawks into the microphone. like maybe the world has just ended and she demands retribution for a life taken too soon. i’m sure the beloved pet will be very missed. i’m sure the time devoted to his memory on local live television will ease his transition into whatever place he’s passed onto next. i’m sure i could not have rolled my eyes any fucking harder.

i went to my first funeral today. the fact that i have survived 32 years on this planet and have yet, prior to today, endured this particular stumbling block on the road of life doesn’t surprise me in the least. it’s not that people i know aren’t always kicking off. it’s just that my parents didn’t let me attend when i was younger and by the time i was old enough to decide for myself, i had moved clear across country from south carolina to washington. if a member of my extended family decided to keel over they would have to do it without benefit of my presence. 3600 miles is just too far to go to mourn their passing. however, the fact that i’ve never been to one seems to confound everyone else. i suppose everyone in the world who isn’t me goes to a funeral a week. or something.

this particular funeral, which was my first, was for a child. a two year old child. because the little baby jesus is light and love and all things joyful, but also loathes competition of any sort, my work colleague’s granddaughter died on christmas eve.

what happened was this: her parents took her to the hospital. the doctor there said, “croup!” and sent her home. my co-worker was called, as most grandmothers are, for a second opinion. they tried humidifiers and steam baths and all the things the doctor at the hospital suggested. nothing worked. so my work colleague, the grandmother, took one look at her two year old granddaughter’s blue lips and listened to her labored breathing and told her son and daughter-in-law that she didn’t care what the hospital said. something was not right. she suggested they take her back. again. to the hospital. where the malformed village idiot in charge for the night who could think only of getting home to his own family had diagnosed her with croup had already sent her away once. so they were readying her to go out. on christmas fucking eve night. back to the hospital again. and she died. right then and there. in her dad’s arms. can i get a hallelujah? and bless the baby jesus on his birthday.

i sure hope they clean up that lot. it would be senseless for any more beloved family pets to die.

so he carried his dead baby. he carried her back to the hospital. and what must that have been like? what were they thinking? did they know it was too late? did they still have hope? or was hope already dead along with that two year old girl who didn’t have to die if barney fife hadn’t been in charge in the ER that night? did they just want to lay down with her and not get back up until she started breathing again? did they want to rage? cry? scream? demand blood for blood? what in god’s name must have been going through their minds at that moment? i cannot fathom it. and when they arrived they were told by someone new who had come on staff that her lungs were full of water and it should have been caught and she should not have been released and all the coulda shoulda wouldas in the world don’t make a fucking bit of difference now, do they, doc? but merry christmas to you and yours! and god bless us, every one.

so this funeral. i don’t want to go. i’m thinking, i’d rather do anything than go to this. i’ve never been. i don’t want to start now. i don’t know what to expect. i don’t want my first to be that of a child. i don’t know what to say to my colleague. i don’t know what to say to the family. i don’t know how to not say the wrong things. not just stupid things, but the wrong, wrong wrongest things. like, i’ll open my mouth to say something very trite and appropriate like, “i’m very sorry for your loss” and instead something horrific and brutally inappropriate will come out. like, “aren’t you just fucking hacked@!!?” and i tell people this. certain people. i share my fear. basically i say, “holyfuck i don’t want to go, don’t make me go! please! i’ll do anything. just– i don’t want to go, you can’t make me!” and then they replied with very supportive and encouraging sentiments that made me feel better. it went something like, “jesus. you’re a big chicken and/or coward. this isn’t about you. it’s about your friend. she needs you there. so stop being a big fucking baby and/or chickenshit and buck up and go or i’ll kick your ass and/or never let you live it down you girly wuss and/or sissy” so i decided i had to go. in the face of such inscrutable evidence as that.

the first part of the service went as expected. grandmother was nearly prostrate with grief. mother and father were crying but trying to keep it together. the funeral parlor was full. this guy got up and led the thing. they talked about the baby. how pretty she was. how full of life she was. how she liked to do this and thus and i was nearly on the floor. mom talked and dad talked and grandma talked and grandpa and farfegnugen i thought i just couldn’t take another minute. i’m looking around and grown men are wiping their eyes and trying not to let on that they’re bawling. the women weren’t even attempting to hide it. they’re just sobbing hysterically. it was like a contest. with each anecdote and photo came another gale of wailing that washed across the parlor; ending in a crescendo that threatened to break my mind in two. yes, she was a child. yes, she was adorable and well-loved. yes, she was taken well before her time. i got the point. i cried. bitterly and without shame. i was pissed off and angry and really disappointed in the whole shooting match, so i cried. but i found there was much, MUCH more to be angry about on the way.

when all that was done and music had been played and everyone just seemed to be emotionally drained to the point of exhaustion this pastor took the pulpit. he tells us she’s in a better place. okay. it’s a nice sentiment. people left behind want to believe that. if not for her sake than for our own peace of mind. he tells us she’s an angel frolicking in the fluffy clouds with jesus. alright. well, i don’t buy it, but if it brings the family comfort then i’m all for it. they’ve suffered enough. then he proceeds to inform us that this child, this two year old child who i think died a criminally negligent death at the hands of criminally stupid people, would want us all to know what heaven is like. er. what? he lost me. he began rambling on and on at great length quoting scripture after scripture, mainly from the book of revelations about the virtues of heaven. what it was like. how it was a “prepared place” from god on high. how not everybody gets to go there. in fact, hardly anybody gets to go, brothers and sisters can i get an amen!? because, you see, we’re all wicked, wicked people. we’re all over-sexed, immoral, faithless sinners. and yea, verily the path to damnation is an easy one. the road is wide and broad is the gate. not so, the path to heaven. oh no. the path to heaven is rocky and narrow is the gate. so hard is that road that you’d have to be damn near perfect, like oh say, this pastor, to get through it. so you better not be planning to go to heaven when you die. unless you give up your evil, sinful ways right now. this very minute. in this funeral parlor. because, afterall, what better occasion than a child’s death to convert ugly, godless sinners?

he then went on to tell us that she was a lamb of god. that we’re all sheep and this child was one of his lambs who made it safely to the other side with the ‘shepherd’ and she was now beckoning us to the other side. but the thing about us sheep is that we’re all big cowards. we’re all afraid of the water. he was encouraging us to stop being such poofs about the water and just hop on in. i mean, come on. this little two year old girl could do it. why couldn’t we? she was now safely on the other side of the river of life with the shepherd enjoying all the rewards of heaven and isn’t that special? he kept insisting that she would want him to pass this message to us. no, no it’s okay. she wants him to tell us all this. she would have wanted him to brow beat this message into our heads for an hour straight. he had a captive audience of grief-stricken sheep. what better platform to spread the wacko propaganda seeded in his narrow mind?

my mouth hung open. my tears dried up and had it not been for two friends on either side of me, literally sitting on me, i would have been on his head after the first 15 minutes. anger trumps sorrow. what he was doing in this little girl’s name was so grossly inappropriate i could scarcely see straight. i can’t speak for the family. i know they asked him to officiate over the service. i know he is a close family friend. but i also know they shifted uncomfortably in their seats and glanced nervously about after the first twenty minutes passed and he showed no signs of slowing. i know after thirty minutes people began leaving. literally walking out. of a funeral. i know he took a horrible, terrible situation that never should have happened and made it even worse. i know there is no justice in this world, but if there were, he’d be visited by a plague of locusts and the fleas of a million camels would infest his armpits. the way of salvation is indeed narrow, as narrow as his addled, pea-brained little mind. but i’m sure he’s one of god’s favorites, nonetheless.

in talking to my colleague i’ve learned they’re planning to sue. i think we live in a litigious, sue-happy nation. everybody sues everybody for everything and it just never ends. it makes my ass tired. but this time i agree. they should sue the hell out of the hospital. they should sue them until they cry. the whole hospital should need a collective enema by the time it’s over. and unfortunately, even that’s going to be an uphill battle. the county we live in is mighty fuckered up. there’s all this hand holding and back scratching between the attorneys and doctors. they’ll have to go out of county to find an attorney who will even touch the case. but the meek, the pastor assures me, they shall inherit the earth. and i believe every word he says.

i think, however, the important thing to remember here, the lesson to be learned in all of this is that the lot behind the house must be cleaned up. not one more beloved family pet should perish. lest the local news be called out again. that would be a real tragedy.