My Grandmother had died.

We were planning her non-funeral and trying to determine what to put on a headstone. She wasn’t a religious woman. Nothing seemed right, all these pat phrases about healing and peace and joy. She was probably a little mad about dying, to tell you the truth. She wasn’t done watching her stories, or watching her grandson grow up. She was pretty much done with me, though, I’ll tell you that. My grandmother was a PISTOL, right up to the end. I went to great lengths not to cross her.

She had everything wrote out, which my mother decided to blatantly disobey. She didn’t want her name in the paper under obituaries “because it ain’t nobody’s damn business when I die”, she didn’t want a funeral “because I don’t want anybody lookin’ at me while I’m layin’ there, dead” and she didn’t want a preacher “cause they’re all a bunch of liars.”

Well.

She swore she’d haunt us, but I didn’t think she would because she didn’t want to die in the house on account of me being afraid to live there. More on that in a minute. But mom wasn’t scared of her, and neither was Uncle Dale, so they conspired to give a memorial service. Nobody would speak, and it would be fairly informal. I don’t remember what we did about the obituary. I can’t find it online, so that tells me we didn’t have one.

But back to the matter of her gravestone. Like I said, she wasn’t religious, so the crosses and doves and the like were out. Doesn’t leave a lot to choose from, but she did love fall, and there were some leaves. And then…

And THEN….

We ran up on a football leafing through the pages of clip art that could be created. And that settled that.

She loved the Tennessee Volunteers and the Dallas Cowboys, so it was a no- brainer.

Now for a phrase…a lift-me-up, feel good about life slogan to be firmly engraved on your final resting spot. None of these sickly sweet “I’ll be the star in the sky” or this crap about beautiful sunsets and comforting winds at your back would do. Nothing about gifts of today or tenderness and kindness and loving words to soothe the soul. Nope.

She would have probably appreciated something about working hard for the money, or dancing in sparkly shoes while you can (I get it honest), or perhaps don’t bother with flowers, bring chocolate and Jack Daniels but those aren’t really appropriate. Even though Bette Davis’ says “She did it the hard way”. Why do funeral directors make you pick out an epitaph right away? You ain’t right in the head for a little bit. But maybe it’s better to just get it over with. So on we searched. Everything felt hollow, all these trite expressions and passages from a Bible she didn’t read. And then I just sat back and thought.

Live, laugh, love. A common enough expression, and one she was on board with. So there we had it. Off to the presses.

Below is the finished product. I hated to abbreviate the months, it felt so tacky, even though the lady assured us that how it’s done these days. I reckon I’m gonna save for a tomb, whether it be here or New Orleans and just be covered UP with words…some of my own, of course, and a few passages from Gone With The Wind. Yes, I know it’ll cost. I priced the mini palaces already. It’s like a car payment. But…worms.

Mom does all the decorating. I take no credit. I rarely even visit.