My Grandma died, but I don't really want to talk about it, okay?

So my Grandma* died, and we had a funeral this last weekend. It was a good funeral, so that was nice. And all my cousins, and aunts and uncles came, which was great, too. But it was also pretty hard, and I feel emotionally spent. So forgive me if I don't talk about how much Grandma meant to me, and how great she was, cause look, I'm already bawling.

I am finding it hard to write anything that isn't sarcastic or humorous (obviously an inappropriate tone for this post). Is very uncomfortable for me. Maybe I'm not so real after all? Even if I did show you my kitchen? Perhaps I was only being fake real? Which is hypocritical. So unattractive.

During the funeral, my kids (Tommy was in the nursery) sat with their cousins and didn't talk or wiggle or poke one another, but sat very still and silent. This has never happened before. Ever. Was true miraculous miracle. Sam actually keeled over and slept on Jake's lap. Which made me think he must be very seriously ill and would likely throw up at any moment (turns out was healthy). At one point cousin Will did get out his DS and start playing, but it was totally on mute. Was a very reverent Game Boy. Jen tried to get Jake's attention to tell him to tell Will to turn it off, but Jake was busy shopping on ebay on his iphone.

I cried all the way through it, almost without pause, but that's just what happens when your Grandma dies and you are 8.5 months pregnant. (And you are already a giant wussy.)

For the rest of the weekend, we hung out with the relations. My cousins are pretty great. Becky and Laurie can always be counted on to stay up all night telling family stories that cannot be repeated on the internets, Christine told me she stalks my blog (hi Christine!), and I wish Ben would move down here from Utah, cause he is smart and hilarious, even though he once (he was a college freshman, so he can't be held fully responsible) called me a big girl and said that big girls weren't his thing (I was 5'9" and 135 pounds). I think I told him that was okay, since cousins weren't my thing. We had Dave and Mindi and kids staying at our place, where I was a horrible hostess cause I'm too large to get up very much (NOT 135 pounds this week), and didn't cook any food. Somehow, though, by Sunday morning my feet had grown from twice to four times their normal size, and I had to wear flip-flops to church, and people noticed and I was humiliated because I normally have very nice ankles and AA width feet. My Mom saw them and told me to go to the hospital. I'll spare you the visual. You are welcome.

Instead, I'll share these:

Verna in high school

Young Verna and Don

Grandma and Grandpa

At her 99th birthday party, last month

My family, the Laytons, at the graveside on Friday: Ross, Mareen, Ryan, Jen, and Kelly.

(Is taking pictures behind coffins weird? It felt weird.)

All her 25 grandchildren. I'm at the far right. Next to Ben, who is probly thinking I'm big. Well, he's right. This time.

*Verna Pauline Oswald Taylor. January 9, 1911-February 19, 2010. I checked my stats and it turns out people are googling her. Even people in Germany. Gutentag, Germany! So for family history purposes, grandma was married to Don Leon Taylor (died 6 years ago May), and they have 5 children , 25 grandchildren, 75 great-grandchildren (plus at least two on the way, including this boy of mine!), and 3 great-great-grandchildren. All of us are brilliant and extraordinarily good-looking, according to Verna.

I'll miss you, Grandma.