jacks LandLady
09-27-2013, 10:44 AM
Pictures and flowers everywhere.
A typical Jewish funeral. All the zaftig cousins decked out in obscene black, displaying their wares like so many morbid cigarette girls.
I was wheeling my brother around in a wheelchair, his sternum recently sawed in two so they could rescue his artery clogged heart and give him more time to hate himself properly. No one would speak to me...I had estranged myself from this freakshow years before, and showed up because, well that's what you do when you want to put it to rest for good, isn't it?
The rabbi was late. Clueless, he had no idea who he was eulogizing.
Then a wonderful thing happened, the rabbi finished his bullshit, and asked the congregation to speak about the dead guy.
Silence.
I was thunderstruck at first, because I assumed at some point I would be required to speak, or that at the very least, my brother would. But no one spoke.
The alta cacka cleared his throat and asked again for someone to speak about this mans life.
Not a peep. In my heart of hearts, something shifted, ever so slightly.
I was not alone.
I counted the minutes of sweet quiet, and contemplated the hate that suddenly vacated my soul like some black and useless hair clog in the sewer of my life. A congregation of 112, everyone who knew him in life, and no one would speak at his funeral. Blissful.
The rabbi said, "I don't know this man, one of you will have to speak about him, so we may eulogize him properly. It is the Jewish Way."
Finally, after 16 minutes, my bastard half sister spoke.
"He was an asshole."
A typical Jewish funeral. All the zaftig cousins decked out in obscene black, displaying their wares like so many morbid cigarette girls.
I was wheeling my brother around in a wheelchair, his sternum recently sawed in two so they could rescue his artery clogged heart and give him more time to hate himself properly. No one would speak to me...I had estranged myself from this freakshow years before, and showed up because, well that's what you do when you want to put it to rest for good, isn't it?
The rabbi was late. Clueless, he had no idea who he was eulogizing.
Then a wonderful thing happened, the rabbi finished his bullshit, and asked the congregation to speak about the dead guy.
Silence.
I was thunderstruck at first, because I assumed at some point I would be required to speak, or that at the very least, my brother would. But no one spoke.
The alta cacka cleared his throat and asked again for someone to speak about this mans life.
Not a peep. In my heart of hearts, something shifted, ever so slightly.
I was not alone.
I counted the minutes of sweet quiet, and contemplated the hate that suddenly vacated my soul like some black and useless hair clog in the sewer of my life. A congregation of 112, everyone who knew him in life, and no one would speak at his funeral. Blissful.
The rabbi said, "I don't know this man, one of you will have to speak about him, so we may eulogize him properly. It is the Jewish Way."
Finally, after 16 minutes, my bastard half sister spoke.
"He was an asshole."