Honeysuckle tears

Honeysuckle tears

Outside on the lanai, under rented white canopies, mason jars filled with sun-brewed sweet tea sit untouched on the table. Tears of condensation roll down the glass, leaving wet circles on the old linen cloth. Gran’s tatted lace doilies, yellow and wilted with age, hang forlornly from the backs of the chairs.

The stifling gloom even makes the honeysuckle blooms weep nectar. Great drops of amber syrup fall from the vines as the mournful drone of bees fills the air.

The sadness is palpable. I want to scream at them all. Tell them this wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted a party, she wanted laughter and music, she wanted to be remembered with rowdy tales from her remarkable life. I almost expect her to sweep down the main stairs, whooping and hollering loud enough to wake the dead.

I suppress a giggle, hoping the others will assume my shaking shoulders are from my overwhelming grief and not a swallowed laugh. Hidden meaning in her pre-planned service still fresh in my memory, brings on another wave of laughter.

I mean to respect Gran’s wishes. No maudlin funeral, she wanted a celebration.

Standing, I raise my jar of tea high over my head, “to Gran, I’ll miss you, you old broad. Do you all remember that time when she got arrested for solicitation on her 90th birthday?”

More stories are told. This time the tears are happy ones. Finally the spell is broken, and the laughter and her party can begin.

Rule of thirds

For Trifecta. This week’s prompt is: Weep [transitive verb \ weep] 3: to exude (a fluid) slowly: ooze

My father, still alive and kicking, has warned me that he does not want a funeral. He instead wants his family and friends to celebrate his life. He would approve of me laughing during any memorial service we may hold for him.

16 thoughts on “Honeysuckle tears

  1. laughter during funerals is an immediate-family trait of mine. we have tried sitting on different pews, but the only thing that could stop it was if the rest of us didn’t attend. and i totally agree with you…i know in my soul that noone we’ve ever loved and lost would expect or want any less. thanks for bringing those memories back with this post.

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  2. I’ve found that I read these things looking for the ‘weep’, and I’m delighted when it isn’t where I first expect it. I expected it from the condensation on the glasses, and instead, it came from the honeysuckle. “You old broad” totally changed the tone and brought out the laughter the main character was seeking. I really enjoyed it!

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  3. Awesome. That’s what I want for my “funeral” – this was perfect. And oh the imagery. It gave me chills, although at first I was expecting it to be a broken wedding. Other end of the spectrum, but it still gave me chills!

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  4. awesome

    love the toast. good job with weep. But the ending had me weeping with tears of laughter…

    not really, only teenage girls make me cry. good job…

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  5. You set the scene so beautifully with your descriptions, I could easily see it all. And I agree with your dad: that is how a memorial should be. Light, humorous and uplifting. Death is just another beginning to a different stage.

    At least, I like to think so 🙂

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  6. i could see this, your words painted such a vivid picture. and then the stifled laugh. and how the irritation at the mournfulness and the surpressed giggle turned into a resolve to stand up and make the memorial what Gran wanted.

    My dad’s mother was that same way. Your character’s quote at the end about solicitation? That’s just exactly what Im talking about. She was a wild lady. 🙂 Thanks for reminding me of her today!

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