So yesterday, I learned, was the death anniversary of my paternal grandmother.  My mother, being of the age when one clings to all sorts of religious traditions, sort of coerced me into doing the litany prayers for the dead.

Well, coerce is too strong a word; she didn’t really have any other choice—my father’s too stubborn to do anything like that and my brother was off gallivanting with his girlfriend.  So that left me, me the new driver who relies heavily on my mom to ask my dad for permission so I could take out the car.

It wasn’t much of a sacrifice as I only had watching tennis lined up last night.  Sure, the Fed was up against some very cute Serb but there was no way that it would be a thrilling fight—the Fed was bound to win it in straight sets anyway. 

So we went to the altar, lit a candle and read all four pages of the prayer.  I thought I could to it without qualms, but after the first page I found myself actually irritated.  It just seemed so pompous, all of it that it was ridiculous.

Don’t think I’m a bad granddaughter or anything.  I never met my paternal grandmother but I’m sure she was nice and all, and I’m willing to say a prayer and light a candle for her but to go over the litany was just senseless to me.  Whoever came up with those prayers anyway?  And why must their words be so flowery, too over the top? 

I know, I know that God deserves all the praise he can get but it feels a little bit like kissing ass to me.  If you want something, like praying for the soul of a departed grandmother, just say it outright and scrap all the cheesy stuff. 

I am the type of person who hates pretenses just for appearances’ sake so I guess this looked a lot like that.  I just don’t get it.  I mean you’re talking to God there; He can understand what you want, why go through all the cheese?  Wouldn’t He know better?  Doesn’t He deserve better? 

But then again maybe my mother was being sincere with those prayers.  I sure hope she was, because I sure as heck wasn’t.