Tre Miller Rodriguez's Blog, page 32

The cowboy from the Village People just crashed the Reba...

The cowboy from the Village People just crashed the Reba McIntyre parody show in the Village. Of course he did. Where else would he be? #TheGreenwichVillagePeople (at Stonewall Inn)

New York is New York…with you.

New York is New York…with you.

Warming up with a whiskey tour at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. ...

Warming up with a whiskey tour at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. (Kings County Distillery)

Heart of gold. (Chelsea, Manhattan)

Heart of gold. (Chelsea, Manhattan)

Legacy on the Lake

Last weekend marked the 70th wedding anniversary of my grandparents, Don and Laurel Cray. They died within months of each other, and in the two years since, our family has made plans to spread their co-mingled ashes in Southwick, Massachusetts. Specifically, on Lake Congamond—where my grandparents met and married. 

Last weekend, 12 of us converged on Southwick to carry out their last wishes of “no funeral” and “spread us on the Lake.” Since I’ve released Alberto’s ashes all over the world and written an article with pro tips for ash-scattering, I kinda lean into my muscle memory. As in: This is where I pack whiskey so we can pour some out for the homies. And this is where I make a playlist of grandparents’ favorite songs. And where we get shot glasses from their favorite local hotel to use as a vessel to pour out their ashes tomorrow. And now is when we de-petal roses and trim stems off Gerberas to release with the ashes.

An hour before before embarking a boat on Congamond, six of us are reunited at my cousin’s house and we’re sifting through boxes of Cray/Desmond family photos. It’s somewhere between the photo of my grandparents at the beach house and one of my Grandpa with my late and great uncle that the significance of what we’re about to do on the Lake washes over me: Shit. I’m never gonna dance with Gramp to Diana Krall or Sinatra again. Won’t exchange another letter with Gram. Never gonna have another Easter or Thanksgiving or Mother’s Day meal with them.

My eyes and throat go emo, and the chatter of my relatives recedes. I start speed-typing words into my phone because while I respect the fact my grandparents didn’t want a formal funeral, the idea of unceremoniously dumping their remains out of Ziplock bags without some acknowledgement just ain’t right. They deserve better. Their lives, their love, their legacy deserve mention.

When I finish writing words that a half-drunk person would say after clinking a fork against a champagne glass, I know I’ve got something they would approve of. So I put the phone away, interrupt my aunts and cousins, and make my case for honoring Gram and Gramp’s no-funeral clause while still saying a few meaningful words: Would everyone be willing to share a favorite memory or two when we’re on the boat today? 

The response around the room is mixed—Well, I don’t know about that and Yes, love that idea—but it’s alright. I’ve given the core group of relatives a heads-up, and my hope is that their brains will start sifting through mental archives so they come up with something in an hour or so when we anchor in Middle Pond.

Didn’t count on my own voice breaking just two words into my memorial monologue on Middle Pond. Or fighting tears when I invite everyone to share their favorite memory before offering to go first:  My wedding day in 2005 when Gram gave me a handkerchief from Ireland a few hours before the ceremony because she knew what I didn’t: that I was about to cry though my vows and I’d need to wipe my face with something. Also, a phone call I got from Gramp in 2013 after he binge-read my memoir in one night. His response: “Well, who knew you were so interesting?”

My relatives pick up the thread and for 15 minutes, we all hold cocktail glasses full of vodka or wine as everyone tells their stories. After the last memory is shared, we swallow the alcohol, turn up the volume on the playlist, and head to the edges of the boat with our Ziploc bags.

If you’ve ever poured the remains of people you love into shot glasses and released them with a handful of flowers, you know how surreal the experience is. How final it feels. How simultaneously heartbreaking and beautiful the ash-and-flowers look on the surface of the water.

Thank you, Gramp and Gram, for falling in love, for raising a family together, and for starting traditions that continue in our homes and lives today.  We wish you were here, but we promise that you’re not forgotten.

Celebrating an interdimensional Halloween as Rick Sanchez and...

Celebrating an interdimensional Halloween as Rick Sanchez and Unity. #RickAndMorty

No, YOU’RE seeing Katy Perry with your best gay and...

No, YOU’RE seeing Katy Perry with your best gay and singing louder than all the screaming tweens. #LivingATeenageDream (at Barclays Center)

#BathroomWallpaperGoals (Renaissance New York Midtown)

#BathroomWallpaperGoals (Renaissance New York Midtown)

#BathroomWallpaperGoals (at Renaissance New York Midtown)

#BathroomWallpaperGoals (at Renaissance New York Midtown)

Just another tequila sunset…in Brooklyn. (at Brooklyn...

Just another tequila sunset…in Brooklyn. (at Brooklyn Heights)