Still Wednesday.

Grandpap and me. In the 80s.

It's still Wednesday, and now we're in Pittsburgh. Neil, Blake and I got in our rental car and tried to navigate our way to the Munhall, where all the funereal festivities were happening. As we drove away from the airport I called my mom, and she informed me that my grandmother wanted all the grandkids --including me, the only granddaughter -- to be pallbearers. She was worried I wouldn't be comfortable doing it so she wanted to check with me before I heard about the request directly from my Nana Olga. I was definitely not comfortable doing it, but if it's what Nana Olga wanted, I could suck it up. I spent the rest of the car ride worrying about the logistics of carrying a casket with five boys who are at least six inches taller than me.

When we arrived at Savolski's Funeral Home in Munhall, PA, I saw family members and various elderly people sitting in scattered chairs that had been rearranged to facilitate quiet conversation. I hugged my mom first. Then my dad, aunt, uncle and cousin. I saw Grandpap in his casket looking more peaceful than I'd seen him in years. And then I saw Nana Olga hugging my little brother. And the tears started flowing. I hugged her next. It was the most genuine hug we'd ever had. We held each other tight and spoke softly to each other, we kissed each other on the cheek and hugged tight again. There was such a strength in her vulnerability. As we held each other she told me she was going to need a lot of help and support. It was so honest and so healthy for her to tell me that -- grief has a funny way of making you push people away, but that's not Nana Olga's style.

We sat and visited with family members we knew and shook hands with the ones we didn't. There were a couple times when someone would come up to me and say something along the lines of "I hear you might have a job tomorrow?" or not even address me but ask my dad next to me, "Have you asked her yet? Is she going to do it?" I think my mom had planted a seed that I might refuse the pallbearing job, and as a result people were being extra delicate with me. Which was fine. I felt kind of delicate.

After another hour of visitation, we broke for naps and dinner. My mom called the afternoon visitation the "matinee" and deemed us lucky for missing half of it (our drive from the airport took longer than expected, plus there were the roadside cheesesteaks) as well as the entire two hour visitation the night before. There was still one more visitation to be had that evening, so after a much-needed nap we settled back in at the funeral home.

The priest from Nana Olga's Russian Orthodox Church was there with his aspergillum in hand, his prayer book tucked under his arm and his cantor by his side. He actually made quite an entrance with his white robe/cape and the noisy chains on the aspergillum. The small crowd in front of the casket parted, and the priest and the cantor launched in about 10 minutes of chanting funeral prayers for my grandfather. Russian Orthodox is Nana Olga's religion; Grandpap hadn't been to church in decades. I stood toward the back of the crowd trying to decide how I felt about Grandpap receiving these prayers that he didn't really believe in. But I watched Nana Olga, who stood behind the priest and between my dad and aunt, and I saw what comfort she was getting from the ceremony of it all. As sad as she was, she knew he was going to a better place and they'd meet again, and these prayers and all that holy water just ensured that for her.

Before heading back to the Comfort Inn, Neil, Blake and two of my cousins stopped in at Applebee's for a late bite and to listen to patrons attempt to sing karaoke. A party of about twelve was there celebrating a high school graduation. Chad, the graduate was wearing his mortar board and kept getting called up to the mic (quoth the karaoke DJ: "Alright guys, let's give it up for Chaaaad!") to sing tunes like Candle in the Wind. I ordered the healthiest thing I could find on the menu, and was too hungry to care that it tasted terrible (my cousin's loaded potato skins looked pretty darn good though), sang along to Shoop as two drunk girls butchered it on stage (whilst dropping a couple gratuitous f-bombs in mixed company), and returned to the Comfort Inn ready to sleep hard.