Trigger Warning: Funereal Talk...
And my appearance on The Sporkful
Illyanna Maisonet Is Always Pissed Off
Illyanna talks with Dan Pashman about trying to coax recipes out of her grandmother, how her new cookbook Diasporican became a family affair, and being labeled “difficult to work with” by some in food media.
This was really fun!
Guess what?! My Sazon and Adobo blends are back in stock! Just in time for Christmas. Remember last time you fucked around and found out, so don’t sleep this time around!
The signed book bundles are SOLD OUT! But, there are still some blends left.
And every time you purchase one of my seasonings by CLICKING THIS LINK
I’ll receive 10% of the sales.
Diasporican is for sale almost everywhere books are sold. If you don’t want to purchase from a conglomerate (because they actually discount the book and that low key makes it harder for me to reach the point where royalties kick in) then buy from your local bookstore. Does your local bookstore have it in stock?! No idea! You’d have to ask them. If they say “no,” then ask them if they’d carry it! Where is your nearest local bookstore? I don’t know! I don’t live where you live. But, some people put in some extra steps and found out for themselves, from California all the way to Australia! And I love them so much for it.
If you follow me on Instagram then you saw me take Mami to her CT-Scan appointment and the ups and downs of what comes along with the general interactions we face with the United States healthcare system. As an outsider (the non-patient), I try and bring comedy relief to these types of situations. My attempt in trying to distract Mami from her anxiety is sometimes effective and I remember trying to do the same thing when my grandma was in the hospital. Needless to say, I’ve had a relatively rough few last days as a caretaker.
After dealing with my own MRI fiasco on Sunday (once they put that basket over my face I absolutely freaked out and now have to go back and try again), it was Mami’s turn for a CT-Scan on Monday morning. Mami turned down my invitation to escort her into the hospital, but I’m glad I insisted.
When my mom was my age, she was my grandma’s caretaker. My grandma stayed with us when she had her first - and maybe even second - heart attack. I was 15. We’re talking peak aggression (and the beginnings of my alcoholism). Constant fighting with my mom with my grandma in the house! A true sinverguenza. Although some of my cousins were about that life and acting a fool out in the streets, they wouldn’t dare reveal those personas to my grandma. I just didn’t give a fuck. My mom would have to deal with me and the next day, drive my grandma to the doctor’s. I’d sit in the backseat and watch my mom drive in silence, angry and tired, and my grandma would say, “Let’s go to eat!” And my mom would sometimes say “no” because she was just…done. I felt bad for my grandma and angry at my mom, but I also didn’t know any of the shit that I know now; I had no idea about their relationship.
I’m not scared to talk about death. Open dialogues about death, in my opinion, are normalized in most cultures. Especially Latino/Hispanic culture. Which is weird that some white folks are quick to paint their face like calaveras for Dia de los Muertos and yet don’t adopt other facets of the tradition. One of the reasons I may not be afraid to talk about death is because I’m an only child? I remember thinking about morality at a much younger age than most people I know. I was still a child when my mom went in for her hysterectomy, I remember lying awake and thinking, “Who’s gonna take care of me if Mami dies?” Another reason I’m not scared to talk about it is…poverty.
When my Nana died she had a little life insurance, roughly around $5,800. Anyone who has had to plan a funeral knows…that ain’t shit. Especially if you’re trying to have a “proper” Catholic funeral. Because her life insurance wasn’t enough to cover the costs, the family had to contribute. Seeing as some of my mom’s siblings are not in the financial (or mental) position to contribute, some of their children did. And honestly, it was the same with my mom.
My mom didn’t have a fucking dime to her name and she had to take out a bank loan to contribute. Technically, she didn’t have to contribute because I wrote out a check the day the funeral home showed us the inventory of digital caskets on a projector screen. And I made sure to write the check in the room we were all in, in front of everyone, not to gloat…but, to ensure everyone had the receipt. Some people in my family are known for lying not remembering facts.
My mom being the oldest and the executor of my grandma’s will, she felt like it was her duty to financially contribute. Another thing y’all know about me, I’m not afraid to talk about money.
Some things I noticed most during the process was, shit gets real and it gets real fast! My mom was not…all there? Her body may have physically been present, but the lights were on and nobody was home. Whatever duties she had, I stepped in. My second oldest cousin, who had been my grandma’s caretaker towards the end, took over. Being present is super important during this process. Again, because shit moves fast and shit is expensive!
It’s not that I was shook by the amount of money that is required. I was shook by the amount of time you have to get your money together. Fact: did you know that you only have 3 days of refrigeration before the funeral home charges you storage prices? $225 a day (2015 prices). And it’s your loved one that’s being stored in the refrigerator. Did you know that there’s a transfer fee (that costs hundreds of dollars) to remove your loved one directly from the place of death to the funeral home? Let’s say “they” took your loved one to the closest funeral home, but it’s not the one you want. Sometimes there’s a transfer fee to move your loved one between funeral homes and it costs thousands of dollars.
If you come from an underrepresented neighborhood like I do, can you imagine grieving families trying organize car washes so they can raise funds, $5 at a time, to send their loved ones to the afterlife?! That’s the part that absolutely wrecked me. And made me bitter. You’re grieving and (big!) business is still being conducted.
The experience prompted me to write “The Guide To Avoiding Unnecessary Funeral Costs,” when I was still over at Broke-Ass Stuart. And as tacky as this list may seem, at the time, it also schooled a lot of people. It’s badly written and hasn’t aged well. And yet, a lot of the advice still holds up.
How do you talk about death without pissing people off? You don’t. The funereal industry has done a great job (and made beaucoup in the process) at sanitizing death and there are people who will still be upset by it. I wish I didn’t know the things I learned and observed while planning my grandma’s funeral. That job should have been solely for her children, not her grandchildren.
Poverty reveals how the sausage is made. And no one is protected; no matter age or gender.
One of the best things my bro (RIP) ever did was pre-pay for his cremation services. He knew he might not make it out of addiction, so when he had a sober period and a decent job, he went and signed up with the state cremation society. Not for everyone, for sure, but it made everything one bit less stressful during a traumatic loss. My mom and other bro is signed up too, and spouse and I have to get on that.
Don’t even get me start on funeral homes owners. You’ll tell them you can’t afford something and they’ll try to guilt you, making it seem like you’re disrespecting your family member’s legacy. In black Southern families, a funeral is supposed to be your home going and celebration of your life, so that shit works.
I also remember AOC said when her father died with no life insurance, her and her siblings ran themselves into debt to pay for it. She said it took her five years to pay off the credit card she took out for the funeral. It’s a racket.