Writer & Ardent Atheist
Every easter growing up, my aunts, uncles, and cousins would meet my family at my Grandmother’s house so that we could eat breakfast, and hunt for eggs. We stopped doing that when the younger cousins got to be about twelve years old. In fact, we generally don’t do much besides have a nice dinner. This year, however, was one that will go down in the books.
I don’t have any school this week, so I’m letting my sleep schedule wander a bit. I went to bed at 6 AM easter morning, and I woke up at 2 PM. My mother bought a shit ton of easter candy, and she was preparing dinner. Wanting to finish the second season of Arrested Development without resorting to Hooroo, I pulled out my iPod, and looked up the number for Best Buy. I called them to hear their hours, but I was almost instantly denied. Closed for easter. I guess Best Buy likes hard boiled eggs more than they like my money. Disappointed at the consumer-cockblock, I drove to the Best Vet Yet, and gave Marty a plate of delicious easter ham. I went on home, and polished off the latest episode of Windows Weekly. My father shook me out of my podcast-induced haze to remind me we had to go to a wake. On easter-fucking-Sunday. As in the day we remember that one guy that rose from the dead. Poor taste, no?
I schlepped out to the funeral home, and had my car parked by the same man who has parked cars there for as long as I’ve been alive. I waited in a very long line, and shook hands with people that I have only seen at other funerals. I pimped back to the back of the room, and said hello to the close relatives. The conversation was fine, but it made me remember what a fucked up easter sunday this was. Instead of waking up for breakfast with the family, we were at the wake of a distant relative in our funeral get-up. This one is memorable to say the least.
