Kick Ass Chili and the Laughing A-Hole

This is the first time I have done a writing prompt on Mama Kat's site...and apparently I cannot type in my own URL correctly...no I am not drunk...the paint job my girls did to my nails is just really distracting...lol


I come from a large, loud, opinionated Italian family. When my grandfather first met Suburban Cowboy, he told him that he should marry me because I had nice, wide child-bearing hips. Thanks Papa. Did I mention they were also embarrassing and closet kleptomaniacs??My mother will go into a restaurant and empty them out of little tubs of jelly. WTF??? I cannot see the reason why she does this, but she does it EVERY time!!!
Now my grandfather was tough and crusty, but I loved him dearly. He was the one who let me watch Children of the Corn and eat TONS of junk food the one and only time he babysat for me without my grandmother.He was the guy who listened to people’s cell phone calls on his police scanner. He was the one who taught me to make kick ass chili while listening to Italian opera.And he was the one who cried when my oldest son was born, and who called me every day of my ninth month until my oldest daughter was born. Well shortly after my 2nd child was born, he passed away. I was heartbroken to say the least.
I was somber during the wake. I had just had my second child two weeks before. The day of the funeral, I read a poem in his honor and sobbed half way through it. Suburban Cowboy held my hand and rubbed my back while I sat in church. My father was strong and crushed.
On the way to the cemetery, I was in a limo with my mom, my aunt and my older aunts and some cousins. Everyone was crying and just crushed. Out of nowhere…I start to hum. My mom looks at me and elbows me. I look at her and shrug. I stop for a bit and start to hum again. My mother shoots me a “death look” and I bite my bottom lip. Then I recognize the song I am humming. “Another One Bites the Dust” by Queen. My mother’s eyes widen as she realizes what I am humming and I bite my bottom lip, but its too late. I start to giggle. Not little girl, airhead cheerleader giggling mind you. We are talking “mental patient on the way to get her lobotomy” giggling. My aunt’s head snapped up and she glared at us, because by now, my mother was trying not to laugh and she was doing this sort of air snort out of her nose thing while I was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my face. I am shaking my head and at this point, bending at the waist laughing quietly. My mom is crying, literally crying and laughing at the same time, clenching my arm. My great aunt looks at her and smiles.
“Linda,whats wrong?” she asks, beginning to laugh herself.
“Oh nothing, my daughter is an asshole Aunt Gertie,” she replies. I finally lose it totally and fall back against the seat laughing loudly.
Imagine us pulling up to the cemetery, getting out of the limo, laughing like we just got done hitting a Ladies Night at the local bar. My father just looked at us and kind of raised his eyebrow to my mother. She walked over to him, wiping her eyes like I was.
“Your daughter, is an asshole,” she replied and then went to sit by the coffin