Digging Up Grandma in Greece

You have to dig up

Grandma in Greece

After a few years

Because burial space is limited

You bury her

You wait a few years

You dig her up

You do something else with her

It seems sacrilegious

To those who are religious

But I am not religious

So it’s no skin off my teeth

And I offer to go

And do the whole thing

By myself

But my mother

Insists on coming with me

We take two shovels

And we leave my father at home

Because he’s a crier

And while I respect

A man’s right to cry

I don’t feel I need to witness it

In order to endorse it

My grandmother was buried

Under the most beautiful tree

You’d ever seen

And I don’t know what kind of tree it is

Which is why I’m not a good writer

Because my writing teacher in college

My professor, if you will,

Always felt it was important

That you be able to name

Every kind of tree and plant and flower

That you came across in life

Whereas I would rather just say--

My grandmother was buried

Under a fucking tree

And you can imagine

Whatever kind of fucking tree

You want to imagine

We go there with our shovels

And Jesus, did I ever forget

How far down

You bury a body when you bury it

I was sweating within a few minutes

And my mother wasn’t

Because my mother has a steel will

And she could just tell her body

Not to do things

And it wouldn’t dare disobey her

This old Greek women

Digging up her mother-in-law

And that’s another reason

The story is no good

Because a better story

Would be us digging up her mother

Instead of my father’s

Because it would be more meaningful

But look, the truth of it is

We were digging up my mother-in-law

Who neither of us liked very much

But who still deserved better

Than being disturbed in her grave

After all those years

But like I said

I don’t buy into all that bullshit

As far as I was concerned

We might as well

Have been digging up

Barney the dinosaur

And when we finally got to her body

It was just this huge relief
That she was where we thought she was

And we got down to the business

Of putting her in the containers

We had bought
And we had to put on gloves

And a mask

And Jesus, it was a whole to-do

When it was over

We were back in the car

And I was starving

And we went to this place

In the village

Where the waiters flirt with you

Even if you’re old

And covered in dirt

From your grandmother’s grave

My mother got a glass of something strong

And she told me

That she’s glad she has a daughter

That she can count on

To dig her up

When the time comes

And I asked her

Who’s going to dig me up

And she said--

Make sure you don’t die in Greece

And you know

My mother wasn’t one for advice

But that was some pretty good

Fucking advice

If you ask me

Well…

That’s the end of the story

And I’m sure you probably thought

There’d be something nice in there somewhere

But I think the same way you can think up

Your own tree

You can think of me and my mother

Sitting there

Having done this grueling thing
That few people

Could ever stomach

Eating the kind of feast

You can only find

In little towns in Europe

Talking about how smug we were going to be

When we got home

And my father was sitting in his favorite chair

Feet up

Watching soccer

Ready to ask us

Whether or not

We cried