GPS saves the day.

Saturday, October 8, 2016

San Angelo, TX

Oh crap! It’s 9am and my text messages are going off. I am supposed to be in the lobby but I am still bed. This is bad. I tear out bed, throw on clothes, brush my hair and spend about 20 seconds brushing my teeth. At 9:10am I run into the lobby. I am officially late to Mema’s funeral.

We all climb into the limousine and no one says anything about my late arrival. The driver goes slowly to church. We arrive by 9:30am, with plenty of time to spare. As we enter the church I see two strangers sitting in the pews. My parents recognize them right away and they exchange hugs with my parents and me and my brother. The hugs last for a beat too long. Soon I realize they are Bill and Barbara, old family friends. To be fair I have only met them a few times. 

We are shown to a side corridor, where we will be escorted to the front row of the service. Other family members are around, including Jack, Mema’s husband. He looks sick and tired; thankfully, his kids are there to take care of him. I also notice that almost all the women are wearing some form of the Concho pearl, which is a special freshwater pearl only found in San Angelo. I find this classy and wish that I had one too.

After about 15 minutes of standing around, the service begins. We are escorted to the front row and I sit in between my Mom and brother. The service feels pretty standard. It starts with some music and then a prayer. The minister says something about death being the hardest on the living, which only makes me think of my Mom. I start to cry, but pull it back together within a few minutes. After the minister’s sermon we listen to more music and then the service is over. My Dad, brother and other pall bearers move the casket into the hearse. From here we all drive across town to the cemetery. We have police escorts (which really isn’t a big deal in a town as small as San Angelo).

The graveside ceremony is brief. Some people are crying but I am holding strong. After a few prayers we are ushered away from the gravesite. The minster tells us that they lower the casket after everyone leaves, because its less emotional that way. I appreciate this.  

Our last stop is back at the church for snacks and fellowship. The drive seems to be taking longer than expected. Eventually we realize that our driver is lost. I am annoyed that I am the only one in the car with GPS and begrudgingly pull up a map to the church. Once we finally arrive, we are on the wrong side of the parking lot. My Dad is frustrated and insists that we all get out and walk. After about a 5 minute we arrive at the back of the fellowship hall where an extended family member just happens to be standing around. He lets us into the back door and we are clearly the last to arrive. Minister Paul insists that we get some food. I grab a plate with a few sandwiches.  There is also coffee, thank goodness. We all sit with family for a while. Most of the talk is about how various family member have been doing; it’s pretty unemotional.

Eventually it’s time to head back to the hotel. We drop my brother off who heads back to Austin immediately. My parents and I take breaks in our respective rooms. 

Later that day we get together to do some sightseeing. We start out at the Sonic. I am not eating sugar so I end up with a cup of iced tea. We make a quick stop by my stepgrandmother’s apartment where we visit and look at pictures for about an hour. From here we take a walk along the river and a drive through San Angelo’s nicest neighborhood. My parents are considering retiring here one day. Ugh.         

Finally, it’s almost dinner time. We go to downtown and Dad suggests Peepsi’s which looks old and authentic. I ask what kind of wine they serve and they pull a bottle of Yellow Tail out from underneath the counter and reply “red”. I decide to go for a beer. We sit out back and listen to a guy with a guitar. Eventually we order some wings to go with our beer. It’s a pretty nice time. After a few hours, we decide to go walk around a little bit more. It turns out that there is a free concert in the street. We stop for another half hour so. I am very charmed by San Angelo right now; I am also a little drunk.  

On the way back to the car a guy asks us for money. We politely decline but he follows us for half a block. I am not worried, but my Dad tells him to go away.

Eventually we are back at the hotel. Tomorrow is my flight home.