Awake

Drove myself out to NH for Mr. T's wake on Sunday afternoon and somehow managed to peel some of the hubcap off one of my tires while trying to park my car. I'd been planning on meeting McMumsy there and staying for the whole wake, but that was not to be. Mr. T was an insurance salesman, an active churchgoer, and came from a ginormous family, so though I was in line 10 minutes before the wake was due to start, it took a solid hour to get through the line and out the door.

It was interesting to listen to the chatter around me - there wasn't anyone I knew in my immediate vicinity - but there were a lot of what I want to call elderly men, only elderly to me implies feebleness, and they weren't feeble - they were just old. Two of the old guys directly in front of me looked at their watches, looked at the line, and decided they would attend the funeral instead. After about 10 minutes, an old guy behind me recognized the I-will-listen-to-your-stories bat signal that I emit without even trying, and he started chatting me up. He'd been in the insurance business for 62 years, with his son working alongside him for the last 25. I think that puts him squarely in Don Draper territory. He also poked the top of my right buttcheek a couple of times to get my attention, but there was no way to tell if that was on purpose.

Anyways, I was able to answer questions about Mr. T's family for him - which daughter was it that lived in  town X, as he'd helped her find an apartment, and what was the name of his wife. It was good to have someone to talk to, because as we entered the room Mr. T was in I saw that Mr. T was on display, and I saw his family in a row beside him, and I realized how small I was in the face of all that grief.

The insurance guy kept chatting until we were right next to the casket, at which point I said goodbye to him and ducked behind the row of mourners to say goodbye to Mr. T.