Not Your Typical Funeral #2

As we left the church things got a bit too much for my mum and she slumped into a chair and started sobbing. Her husband didn’t know what to do but I have many years experience of upsetting women so I waded in and put my arms around her and helped her out to get some fresh air.

It seemed to take forever to get to the graveyard as I had to endure the cackling witches that I like to call my sisters, gossiping about anyone and everyone while my 17 year old cousin sat next to me and kept ‘accidently’ stroking my legs, she well fancies me. I’ve still got it. 😉

We had to huddle in the freezing cold for THIRTY MINUTES for the priest to arrive at the grave. How can he get lost? He has made that journey pretty much every day for the last two years. We were not even allowed to get back into the cars to keep warm because it wasn’t tradition. Everyone kept quiet but you knew we were all thinking the same thing “fuck tradition, I’m freezing!”

By the time he rocked up we all wanted to go home. He started rambling again and then sprinkled some powder onto the coffin, which went in my sister’s eyes because of the howling winds. He stopped talking for us to release two doves (they were meant to resemble the spirit of my Nan and her twin sister) and then rambled on a bit more because getting in his car and buggering off.

We went back to my Nan’s flat where everyone except me dived into the buffet that was put on. Everyone was still there at about 4:30pm (we’d arrived about 1pm) and my mum wanted to go home so she started clearing up around people who slowly took the hint and left.

We were breathing a sigh of relief that nothing serious had kicked off. That happened the following day when my uncle, his girlfriend, my mum, one of my sister, my aunt, and some family friends, returned to the flat to clear up and empty the flat.

An argument started between my uncle and my aunt over who would take the TV to the charity shop and my uncle’s girlfriend came towards my aunt with her hand out like she was going to hit her and screamed “don’t talk to my Michael like that!”

My aunt was holding a glass picture frame which she promptly smashed over her head. Apparently it took several people to hold my uncle back from attacking my aunt.

My family really is like an episode of EastEnders.

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Dean Saliba is a freelance writer, professional blogger, media enthusiast, keen long-distance runner, and huge professional wrestling fan, who covers a wide range of subjects and niches including: making money online, traffic generating, pro wrestling, blog reviews, football, how-to guides, music, internet marketing, athletics, and more.