For half the party--my own party!--I'm just not with it, drugged dopey, I stare through glazed eyes at a lot of people I don't know, or half-know, or, worst of all, know all too well, these emissaries from the past and present intermixed, like in a dream set in a place I don't recognize and have never been before, but familiar all the same, an archetypal banquet hall, like the kind they use for weddings or mitzvahs, bar or bat, and I'm still in my underwear and I'm seemingly hovering just above the crowd, (look at them down there), god, I'm so loopy, and it's a good thing, too, since I'm starting to understand that, as unreal as it all seems, as surreal as it looks to my own eyes which are only inches away from my open palm, my head having flopped lazily to the side at the prompting of a dull, faraway pain, like the flicker of distant lightning or the faint drums of a still far-off marching band, I see the impossible: the fact that I'm nailed to a wooden cross erected in the middle. ” “Alright my boy. I am going to leave it all to you. I don’t think I could manage to organise anything at the moment,” Mom replied. I rang the Funeral Director and arranged to meet with him the next day. He was extremely sympathetic and told me that my Nan was well loved and respected in the Community, so I should expect a large crowd on the day. When we met the next day, we arranged for the Funeral to be held on the following Monday and notices would be placed in every paper until then. We also arranged that it would be a cremation, as that is what Nan had already told Mom and myself. I don’t know how we did it, but Mom and I seemed to hold ourselves together until after the Funeral. It was everything that I hoped it would be. A Celebration of a wonderful lady’s life. After the funeral and wake, Mom suggested that we should see what the Lawyer had to say. He came over on Wednesday and sat and read out the Will. Nan had left all her money to me, plus a letter; the house she had.
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