Blame It On My Youth

"She died." My half-brother's monotoned words pummeled me like golf ball-sized hail. I gasped. "When?" "This morning-she gets buried in a few hours." "What!" I held a deep breath for a moment. "I'll book a flight and head up as soon as possible." "Don't bother. And tell none of her friends." Click. The other end silenced. "What the hell, Jason. You've got the nerve to hang up on me-to think I practically raised you, you son of a..." "Mom?" Taylor rushed into the kitchen. "What's wrong?" "Your grandmother died early this morning, Taylor." I stared into her eyes, waiting for some kind of reaction. She remained silent. Too silent. I was not at all surprised though; Taylor had made peace with her grandmother just before she had left to go back north. I wish I had. Even though my mother and I had been estranged, I couldn't not be at her funeral. I will never forget the day she decided to return to Middle Village in Queens, New York. Her health was declining, and she insisted on going back home. The last words she spoke to me were in the shadowed driveway of my Condo. "Good-bye, Kimmie, she said, stuffing her 300-pound frame into an Uber. She rolled down the window and said, "Expect something from me within a few weeks." The car pulled out of the driveway, and she was gone. I heard the snapping of fingers. "Mom?" My face burned red hot as I thought about what Jason had said to me. "Oh, Taylor. Your uncle is such an ass. He is burying her today. I have got to stop him from doing that. But how?" My mind raced in a million different directions. Then it dawned on me. "Of course...Anthony! He's surely going to handle the funeral." I tapped the phone screen, scrolled down to Seneca Chapels, and pressed the key. After three rings, the receptionist answered. "I need to speak to Anthony. It's about Kay." "Only family members are allowed to discuss funeral arrangements," she said with condescension. "This is her eldest daughter. Put him on. Now." I heard my old accent resurface, louder and heavier than this snot-nosed kid from Queens. She did not respond but put me on hold. A moment later, a man's familiar voice filtered through my ear. "Kim. I am so upset about the arrangements for Kay." "Anthony...what the hell is going on up there? Is my i***t brother really burying her today? Can't you do something? If you can manage it, I'll get out on the next flight." There was a heavy sigh. "Kay chose him to be the executor of her will and funeral. He claims there is no money and refuses to even have her embalmed. He plans to bury her in a plain pine box and with no service at all." "What? She had plenty of money. And knowing that low life, he stole it all. And now he wants to bury her like his father. That's not her religion!" "I know, Kim." His scratchy voice was full of remorse. "There is nothing I can do. I pleaded with him to wait and offered the service at no cost because of my fondness for your mother. But he outright refused." My hand shook and I nearly dropped the phone. "Thanks, Anthony. It looks like there is nothing either of us can do for her now. I cannot believe my ridiculous mother picked him over me. As you must know by now, I was never her favorite." Anthony remained silent for a moment and then said, "I'm so sorry, Kim. Truly I am." Tears rolled down my face and I ended the call. I glanced into Taylor's dark, sympathetic eyes. "It's done. She'll be buried within the next few hours." The phone rang in the mid-afternoon. Debra's name glared across the phone screen in acid blue letters. How appropriate. Cold and unfeeling, just like my sister. "Yes. What is it, Debi?" "I prefer Debra. As you well know." "Just tell me what you want, Debi." I refused to give her the satisfaction of addressing her as she wished. "It's done. Kay was buried next to Grandmother in the family plot at All Faiths Cemetery." My breathing became heavy. "I can't believe you agreed to having Mommy buried right away with no service-and in a pine box no less! You knew she was always terrified of that happening to her. You're just as insensitive and selfish as Jason. You both deserve each other." "It's best this way." "For whom...you, Debi? Jason?" "As you are aware, Mother had some rather unsavory acquaintances. And we did not need to have any of her kind of drama. This way was far more dignified." "Oh, please, Debra. Get off your high horses. You know damn well Mommy would have wanted all her friends there. It was always about her, and taking her last hurrah away was just not right. I was no fan of Mommy's antics either, but I accepted her for what she was. You, and that conniving brother of ours, never have." She remained silent for what seemed like a minute. "Is there anything else?" I asked, pressing my nails against the phone. "Ah, no. That was all." "Well, I have one last thing to ask you." "What is it?" "Did Jason at least order a headstone? "No." The line went dead.