In which we gather to bury Sly, not to praise him, but no blood is shed so that's a good thing

The funeral is over.

Ted mostly behaved himself.

This time, I did not act like an idiot to Ted's best friend, who lives near Sly and Doris, and say, "I could NEVER live down here!"

That's what I said to him at Doris' funeral. What I meant was, "I could never live near Sly and Doris," but I did not say that and instead, I insulted someone who did live here. I did not do it right.

My nieces and nephew were amazing. Michael, Maria, and Pia knock it out of the park. They each spoke. They each started their speeches with some variation of, "Sly could be very difficult." Then they also said, "And he would hate that I am reading notes from my phone."

I am so proud of them and I am not even related to them. For a grandparent not to have spent all of his time beaming with pride at these amazing kids - well, I don't know. They are smart and sweet and work hard. Sure, there have been the normal bumps in the road, but they are nice, nice kids and a credit to their parents.

Primo spoke and spoke beautifully. He, too, said, "Sly could be very difficult."

Ted had to speak last. He wanted to close. The 100-hour eulogy, you know.

I gotta give the guy credit - he is funny and he speaks very very well.

However. Being excited (as in, commenting on it later) that he was able to work the word "shit" into his eulogy for his father?

Really?

He told the story that Sly said he was admitted to Yale with a full scholarship but a high school teacher to whom Sly had said, "Go shit in your hat" had gotten the offer rescinded.

I did not believe the story because

1. If Sly had indeed been admitted to Yale, Primo and I never would have heard the end of it and
2. Do Ivy League schools rescind full scholarships just because a student's high school teacher complains? I truly do not know but that does not make a lot of sense to me.

Primo and I spent the morning before the funeral working in the yard, which had not been tended to, other than mowing, for years. The shrubbery was completely overgrown and the trees needed pruning. We worked and worked and then showered and went to the funeral. I begged Primo not to let Ted and TW come to the house after the funeral. "I cannot deal with them," I said. "I have got to have some down time with only you."

Fortunately, Ted and TW did not want to come to the house - which I found odd, as surely there was more stuff* that they, middle-aged and established, needed to take.

Primo and I went back to work on the yard. It is actually very satisfying to cut stuff down. We ended up with a stack of waste about five feet high, three feet deep, and 12 feet long. (Yes, I measured. Wouldn't you?)

I think this might be the last time I ever have to see Ted again. Sure, he was telling Primo that Primo and I need to visit them, but I am thinking that this will not be a priority for us.


* Ted says, "We've already shipped 2,000 pounds of stuff from TW's mom's estate!" Primo and I do not have room nor do we want 2,000 pounds more of stuff in our house.