No T.V. personality, male or female is as witty, fast and comical as Joan Rivers was.
Joan Rivers is an example of the determination and skill required for a woman to make it a man’s world.
In an era where media is still dominated by strong males and passive females, Joan was an inspiration to myself and other women. She spoke her mind and never apologized for it. Despite her high ratings she was continually let go. Its like men didn’t want to compete with a lady. But, she was too good to be ignored. Her and her daughter eventually called their own shots and produced Fashion Police this became the number one TV show in Britain- and personally my favorite show.
I could always count on Joan to make me laugh- now she’ll bring more smiles to heaven.
Joan always looked fabulous in pink! Joan Rivers, comedian and fashionista
In her memory, I wrote a few jokes I imagine she’ll say on her way to heaven:
- When encountering the grim reaper: “I’m 81, what took you so long!”
- Looking at the staircase up to the pearly gates: “taking the stairway down sure looks easier”
- Entering: “I’m surrounded by all my exes … you call this heaven?!”
- Dressing up in heaven: “Finally, I get to wear white!”
- Upon meeting God: “And I thought I was old”.
Learn more about Joan Rivers on her official site
I’m trying on clothes for my Abuela’s funeral. I never imagined this day coming. Though she died at 92 I was always too afraid to think about it. Now I’m trying on clothes from my closet, asking myself “fWhat would she like to see me in“? I avoid black. She hated black and what it symbolizes. Abuela wouldn’t want us to be sad no te pongas trieste chica. Ya estoy con Dios .
But I am sad.
I’ll probably get cold at the funeral. I shiver when I cry. I settle on a long sleeve blouse- with a black bowed ribbon around my color. A symbol of the sadness I carry.
My Abuela loved lace. Every time I saw her she’d compliment my wedding gown. Pero oye, que bonita la falda.
As I remember, I mouth the words to myself. Hearing the Spanish sends a pang through my heart. Who will teach me Spanish now?
Funerals usually have flowers. She loved flowers. On walks she’d be enamored by the tiniest flower popping off some high desert week. Give me the flowers when I’m alive- don’t waste them on the grave.
I wear a cream lace top- decorated in rose flowers. I add a dark grey skirt to match.
I bend down, roll my pantyhose on. The silk stockings are spotted with water, I feel my wet checks. When did I start crying?
I put on pearl earrings.
Giving myself a once over in the mirror, I see myself as I never wanted: Dressed for my grandma’s funeral.
Will she see us from beyond? Can she see me now? The moment is too hard. It’s too real.
Take it away.
I place on my heals with care- knowing its the last thing I will ever do for her.
I walked toward the hospital to visit my Abuela (grandma). In the hallway a nurse hovered next to me. She had angels’ wings. She turned to me and smiled with rosy cheeks and brown eyes that glistened with blue eyeliner. It was my Abuela. It occurred to me that she is dead. Then I looked at the hospital patient directory and saw she was in room 19. She must be alive! I entered the hospital wing.
A nurse began chatting with me. “Your grandma is okay at the moment. She will look beautiful in the casket’.
“She wants to be cremated, her priest said its okay”. I answered.
“Oh,” the nurse continued, “then I will sit there when they scrape the flesh off the bones and grind the spine and I can help”.
I woke up crying, and remembered my grandma died last week.
Do you have dreams of people who have passed?