Gramma goes to college…

Posted on December 25, 2013


The Trouble With Science

It’s muddy and slippery standing by the open grave. My tall skinny husband tries sheltering  my grandmother and me under an umbrella with a broken strut so it droops and drips on one side. I can feel the wet seeping through the thin soles of my best shoes …. my heels gradually sinking into the soft earth. The minister’s strands of hair are plastered to his head … he drones “Ashes to ashes….dust to dust…” Gram starts moaning and swaying. I  tighten my grip  on her scrawny arm terrified she might slip or actually  throw herself  into the grave on top of the wet coffin.  I wouldn’t put it past her.

She’s 82. Gramps is dead.  Ten years ago, after the proverbial heoric battle with lung cancer , we burried their only child – my mother – followed five year later by my father – same way. Yes, they were heavy smokers…

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Posted in: Sciencing