IT ALL BLOWS UP!

Sitting in the limo, as we were about to enter the gates of Holy Sepulcher Cemetery, I was feeling kind of relieved that the ordeal of burying Mom was about to end.

My imagination being what it is, I tried to feel what it is like for an Italian boy, sitting in a limo on the way to a cemetery dressed in an expensive suit feels like. All I would need is the police surveillance of the “family” so to speak.

Looking out of the front driver’s window, I notice something I didn’t expect, three police cars, waiting at the entrance on the road! This was playing out a little too well. I thought they were there just to have a donut or chit chat as is their want on the numerous occasions I’ve seem them do that. I was hoping they weren’t checking for registration tags.

The procession of mourners drove to a designated area to wait for the funeral director to complete the business with the cemetery staff and we would do what we would do. My 4 sisters who occupied the limo with me, laughing about Mom’s boy toy and how bazaar he had acted in the funeral home parking lot, the church and was now in the funeral procession some where in the line. The car was rocking with laughter and they were all having a good time before the final goodbye. Tension was being relieved.

Suddenly, the back door opens with the limo driver with his cell phone in hand, telling us some old guy was being arrested as the police had taken him out of his car. I started laughing when he said that thinking: he the driver is getting in on the fun. The only problem was, he wasn’t kidding.

I step out of the limo and see Boy Toy standing off to the side with the police frisking him and searching his car. The shock of my life, one of Mom’s friends, the very same mom who taught me to watch who my friends were, not to ever embarrass her, was now embarrassing her whole family because of the boy toy! Mom, who never left the house, had saints statues and rosary beads planted all over the house, was giving us a send off we would never forget, mom, the only living saint there was, because of her friend, had blown up her final goodbye. I was proud of her: she was just saving it until the end.

The Boy Toy had made a threat about shooting people while in the church, angry that we had dismissed him for abandoning my mother not once, but three times, for not taking care of her like he promised, for letting his own selfish interest preceded my mother’s health, for lying to her and us. He happened to tell it to one of my nieces, who became frightened and from training as a nurse had heard the threat and mentioned it to her brother and cousin, who decided to call the police in the interest of safety.

The police detained him after searching him, while we the family completed our business at the gravesite. After we left the cemetery, we were told that the police escorted him to the grave where he said his good bye and then out of the cemetery.

I wonder what Dad is thinking about all this?