TheBanyanTree: JUST WEAR JEANS.....PLEASE!

[Sharon Mack]

JUST WEAR JEANS.....PLEASE!

by Sharon Atherholt Mack

My sister and I are jeans people.  We never wear fancy-schmancy unless
we absolutely have to.  We're both stay-at-home gals and love crafts,
homemaking and, most of all, our families.

I happen to have to work....I wear jeans.  Nice jeans with nice
blouses...but jeans.  We'd wear jeans to the weddings if we could...we
wear them to the showers!  We wear jeans to visit, to shop, at home and
out and about.  They're comfortable and you don't have to worry
about messing up the fabric.  We wear them in the summer as well as the
winter and all the seasons in between.

In the last three years, we have been to three funerals.  We lost our
father first.  It was a small chapel ceremony and a simple burial.  My
son did a beautiful military salute to the patriotic man we knew and
loved.  We cried.  We did not wear jeans.  We complained quietly in our
minds and in whispers to each other and the moment it was over, we went
home and put on our jeans.

Our favorite and very best Aunt passed away a short year later.  She
had been in a nursing home for sometime with altzheimers.  She was a
delightful lady, even in her illness.  We wore jeans on our visits to
her and we wore them when we took her out on the town for a hot dog she
forgot she ate.  We did not, however, wear jeans to the funeral.  It was
a small chapel ceremony and a simple burial.  We all took a rose from
the casket.  We wept and told funny-cute stories about our dear, sweet
Aunt.  We complained quietly in our minds and in whispers to each other
and the moment it was over, we went home and put on our jeans.

My mother lingered on a bit longer.  She had a stroke.... she didn't
recover enough to ever go home.  She lost a piece of her mind to
dementia.  We visited her often.  We wore our jeans.  She recognized us
till the end and we enjoyed a few sweet, last memories.  

When she died, we had the same small chapel ceremony.  We did not wear
jeans.  My sister looked so beautiful as she met us at the door in her
black velvet dress and her jet-black hair streaked with silver-white
strands.  She was the loveliest I had ever seen her.  Her face held its
sadness and her smile was soft and loving.  The siblings and
grandchildren and great grandchildren all sat in the front two rows.  

Our friend Ann came in just before the service was to begin.  My sister
went to greet her and they walked together to my mother's coffin. 
They looked down fondly on the face that had once belonged to my mother.
 As she and Ann stood quietly together, with an unconscious jerk, my
sister suddenly grabbed at her waste and with a vengeance, wrenched her,
by now, sagging panty hose upward.  Within a millisecond she became
conscious of what she had done and where she had done it.  She turned
her head towards the congregation, put her hand to her now reddening
face, and a barely audible, "Oh, my!" escaped from her lips.

In the background you could hear slight titters and giggles.  My
bother-in-law gallantly quipped, "That's my wife, " with a shrug of
his shoulder, as he turned toward the congregation from his front row
seat, a sheepish smile on his face.

It was a simple burial.  We all took a rose from the casket and wept at
this final great loss.  This time the limousine took us back to the
funeral home to retrieve our cars.  It was during this ride that I made
my declaration with all siblings present....

"When I die, in honor of my life and my dear, sweet sister, the only
attire allowed....WILL BE JEANS....COMFORTABLE JEANS!"

You can say farewell just as easily and have it mean as much!