The year, 1996. The month, August. The date, the eleventh. My Grandmother, more devote than the Pope in my eyes and the woman who taught me how to knit when I was 4, had fallen. She was rushed to the ER, unconscious. Had she been awake, she would not have gone. This was on eleventh. We knew of her aneurysm, abdominal, for years. It was her choice to leave it rather than have the surgery to mend it and die a slow and painful death from a year recovery. Normally, an aneurysm kills you instantly but Grandma's didn't. She stayed with us long enough for us all to say goodbye. She passed on 12th. At that time, here in New York, if you fell, hit your head and expired with in 24 hours of a hospital admission, an autopsy must be performed.
Before I continue, you must know Grandma's wishes. Wake one day, bury the next. This had been repeated after every, "I'll not live to see you (fill in your event here)." By the way, she lived to see just about all of them.
As it happened, this was the tail end of a busy homicide weekend here in Buffalo. Homicide autopsies take priority over your common grandma deaths, regardless how uncommon your grandma is. She was bumped to 13th for the autopsy. The same day she arrived at the funeral parlor and was ready for her wake on Wednesday, the 14th. However, the burial was not the next day. Assumption of Mary is the 15th of August. Did you know, Catholics do not bury their dead on Holy days? She was buried on Friday, the 16th. So much for Grandma's wishes.
Moral of the story: Don't leave the living instructions. We will mess them up every time!
