Finally home..

Are you aware that it is closer from El Paso to California than from El Paso to Dallas?
Don't believe me? Investigate. I lie not.
We made it home tonight from a mad, and I mean M.A.D, dash across the fine state of Texas to my Granny's funeral. If you drove north or east from my house for the same amount of hours as it takes you to reach where I call "home," you would either be in Kansas or almost North Carolina, respectively. As it is, we were still in Texas when the driving was said and done. Albeit, the part of Texas that is filled with cactus, deer, lots of wind (think hurricane-and I wish I was kidding), sandstorms (O.M.G.)...amongst other things.
We had hoped to make it to my Granny in time to at least see her before she passed, but my mama called as we were on the road (about an hour or so away) that she was in the process of passing away. Several of her children and grandchildren were there. My cousin, April, who is an R.N. was able to be there in Granny's hospice room to help the family tend to her and help make those last hours more comfortable for Granny. Instead of heading to San Angelo, we went to her hometown, Brady, where our family is and where the funeral would be held and went ahead and checked in at The Roach Motel because Best Western was full to overflowing. Brady is the hub of turkey hunting at this time of year, and we were out of luck for a room at the "good" choice. And by Roach Motel, I mean. The. Roach. Motel. You know, the one with hair and food between the sheets, a hair in the coffee pot, fecal matter on the toilet, dried food on the sink counter and questionable stains on the carpet. Yes. THAT roach motel. (My mama, who hadn't slept in a NUMBER of days from helping tend to and fight my Granny in her final days, confronted the "inn keeper." Poor man. We stayed, virtually, for free. He never saw her coming. Bless his poor Middle Eastern heart. I'm sure he knew why his motherland makes women submit and wear burkas.) Where was I? Oh, yes. So, my Granny passed on, and we headed straight on to the hotel. Over the course of the last couple of days, the kids and I were able to see new faces, old faces, and faces in between. We ate at our family restaurant that was founded by my mama's aunt Pearl (the world famous, Underwood's, in Brownwood. Divine. I ate myself stupid. Sam thought he was in food Heaven, and PDaddy wept because he wasn't there. I'm sure many of you have eaten there,) saw a portion of my (atleast*) 27 first cousins and their "host" of children, showed my children the teensy house where I grew up--as well as our farm, etc. It's an absolute blur, but one thing I can't believe is how amazingly similar all my Granny's grandchildren are--even though some we haven't seen in 10-12 years, and how quickly all of the first cousins' children fell in line with each and started plotting a plan for world domination. Birds of a feather, and all that. Yeah. Sam and his cousin, Seth, need NEVER...N.E.V.E.R. spend any amount of time together. Oh my. World altering would be the words that best describe those two together.
It's so very weird to go "home" and be in Walmart and see your second cousin. To go eat at a restaurant of your second cousin. To be at the mall in town and see a man who graduated from a teensy, west Texas high school with and used to steal watermelons, most likely, with your daddy. Even stranger, are the people there. I live in Texas, but this part of the world is different. Somehow, I ended up in town with only a checkbook and a credit card that had been demagnetized. The darned thing wouldn't work anywhere. Everywhere we went, it seemed that I needed to buy something that we had forgotten, or gas, or shampoo, or dinner, or dress pants for the vistation, etc. At every turn, I was amazed at how many people/business owners, not knowing me from Adam, would know that we were in the area for a funeral (not even knowing my family) and would say, "Don't worry about it. Write a check." Strangers would find out we were in town for a funeral and inquire about who, when, where and hug you, say they were sorry, and "tell your family we said hello." As we drove in the funeral procession (in Texas all traffic stops until the procession has passed...well, at least they still do in west Texas,) we went past a tiny shack where a man was push mowing the weeds in his yard. As we pass him, I saw him standing there--lawnmower turned off--hat over his heart. As we passed a gas station, men pumping gas into their trucks---hats off of their heads and over their hearts. If that don't make you cry, nothing will. Anyway. Like I said. A different world.
So, my Granny is now safe in Heaven with the 4 children and husband she lost so very long ago--which is about as happy as you can be, I'm sure--and we'll forever smile at her last hours, and how she stayed herself right up until the very end--fighting like a tiger, physically (oy) and mentally....and verbally. You know you have a priceless grandmother, when the eulogy is given at her service and the following statement is made, "As many of you know, you either loved Mama or you didn't. On the same hand, you also know that Mama either liked you. Or she didn't. Can I get an AMEN?" to which those in attendance (a large family crowd) emphatically and enthusiastically responded in unison, "AMEN!"
God bless my Granny.