When I called to wish my dad a happy birthday, after I had done so, Mom got on the phone and told me Aunt Cathy had died. Aunt Cathy was really Mom's aunt, and my great-aunt, but she was always Aunt Cathy. She was married to my grandmother's baby brother, a wonderful man who she survived by 10 or 11 years, and they had three kids, five grandkids and four great-grandkids (by the time Aunt Cathy died).
My grandmother was the oldest of four, so there was quite a gap between her and Cathy, but despite the age gap and despite my grandfather moving the family from Pittsburgh to Elyria, my mom still grew up spending time with her cousins and her aunts and uncles. Mom and her siblings attended Ed & Cathy's wedding, but were deemed too young for the reception, so they were bundled off back home while their parents went. Mom remembers that Gramma brought them each a piece of cake, but that she was still mad because it wasn't the same. That may have been what inspired her to allow my brother's and I to come to the wedding of Ed & Cathy's younger daughter.
Since Mom and Dad and I left at 7:00 a.m. to be at the church by 10:00 (with a generous margin of error for Pittsburgh traffic and directions), we had lots of time to talk about that wedding, my grandparents, and Ed & Cathy. When we arrived early enough to grab a cup of coffee, Mom and I got a case of the giggles when Dad could not get the voice-activated Google maps to understand "McDonalds". But we found one, and I had a quick iced coffee and Dad had a cinnamon thing (or McThing, who knows?).
The church was large and modern, the soloist/organist was a phenomenal musician and the priest did a good job despite the fact that he had never met Aunt Cathy. Apparently, her church doesn't have its own priests, but relies on visiting priests from other parishes. The one who performed her funeral mass was built on the same lines as Shaquille O'Neal. He also had a very good singing voice.
The trip from the church to the cemetery was a long one, so more Mom and Dad and Jammies chatter ensued. I mentioned that it was the only time we could run red lights in a car with out-of-state plates and not get pulled over. Fortunately, as part of the procession we did not have to interrupt our conversation to listen to the GPS. A large part of the chatter was Mom remembering where Uncle Henry lived, or Uncle Bill, or Uncle Ed, and whether or not she and her siblings had visited. Two of Uncle Henry's children were at the funeral, and Mom made sure to get e-mail addresses for everyone.
The 'graveside' service was actually at the mortuary at the cemetery, and everyone else went straight from there to lunch. Since Mom wasn't about to have visited Pittsburgh without visiting her parents', grandparents' and sisters' graves, we followed the hearse to the grave site. When we left, we got lost in the cemetery, but found our way out in time to truthfully tell Mom's cousin that we were on the way to the restaurant.
Lunch was very nice, and I got to know two of my first cousins once removed more than I did 10 years ago. They're very impressive young men, and Aunt Cathy had reason to be proud of all of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. When we left after many hugs and some tears, Mom asked if anyone wanted an ice cream cone or a milkshake, and Dad didn't, but I did. Since we were right by the Pennsylvania turnpike, we got on and stopped for our sugar fix at a service plaza. Mom got a milkshake, I got an apple & caramel sundae, and Dad got a frozen coffee drink.
Shortly after we left the service plaza, traffic started to slow up, and then it stopped. We sat at mile marker 225 for an hour in the hot July sunshine, with the car turned off and all the windows open. After a while, people were getting out of their cars and walking forward to try to see what was going on, a few cars managed to turn around and go back east on the westbound shoulder, and three assholes on motorcycles rode up the shoulder to try to get to the head of the traffic. Dad hoped that there would be a cop waiting for them. I just hoped they crashed and totaled their bikes!
After an hour, the traffic started to move, and we drove west to mile marker 223, where we were directed across the median and onto the eastbound turnpike, where we had to go 9 miles back to get to an exit, then wait in line for another 25 minutes to actually get off the turnpike. It turns out there was a horrible accident and the whole turnpike was closed. Although I had joked (before learning why we were stopped) that Mom's craving for ice cream got us stuck, it could very well have been that it saved us from being part of that accident.
Mom and I were relatively pessimistic about the people zooming up the left hand lane and whether they'd cross back into the right line just at the exit and Dad said he didn't want to hear us being negative. So of course as we tried to find an alternate route back home, Dad called the voice on the GPS a "chirpy little bitch", told it to shut up and told Mom that the frustration had to come out somehow!
After a stop for gas (for the car), cheese popcorn (for Mom) and almonds (for me), we got back on the turnpike and had an uneventful trip home the rest of the way. I slept for a bit in the car, then took a short nap on my folks' couch, then came home to a very, very hungry dog. Fortunately, LMPP forgave me as soon as the food hit the bowl, and does not seem to be holding a grudge.
One of the things Mom said as we left the church was that she was grateful for a happy childhood. I am equally grateful for mine, especially as I have grown up and learned that happy childhoods are not as common as they should be. Aunt Cathy was part of that happy childhood, and it's hard to imagine a trip to Pittsburgh that doesn't end with seeing her.
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