My Godmother Snaps

I don't know why my Aunt Lela picked up that knife. The day started out so normally, given the circumstances. My 84-year-old grandpa had passed away, and the entire family gathered in El Paso for the services.

We were seated in the dining room eating breakfast when Aunt Emma asked someone to pass her the orange juice. Then Lela exploded.

"That's it! That's the last straw! You always get everything!"

Everyone stared in amazement as Lela picked up the pitcher of juice and hurled it across the table. She was aiming for Emma, but instead she drenched my Great-Uncle Pablo with a full quart of Tropicana no-pulp.

My mom intervened. In a very motherish tone, she said, "Lela, I really don't think that was necessary."

Lela jumped up from the table, dashed to the kitchen and returned brandishing a huge carving knife. She waved it menacingly in front of Aunt Lola.

"That's it, I'm going to kill you now!"

Lola pushed back her chair and nervously edged away from the table. At the same time, my father and uncle attempted to subdue Lela. "I'm going to kill her!" she kept shrieking.

I was a little confused. Who exactly was Lela going to kill?Emma or Lola? Actually, considering my mother's condescending tone, if anybody deserved a good stab, she did. My brothers, cousins and I all sat open-mouthed while things escalated. I had planned on going upstairs to study for the SAT but this, I decided, was more interesting.

As Lola fled the room, Emma stepped forward.

"You want to kill someone?" she taunted Lela. "Go ahead. Kill me. I think I might like that."

Lela was still struggling with my dad, yet she managed to throw a wild punch. Emma ducked, and Lela hit Aunt Pichona, who screamed, then fainted. Simultaneously, my mother told my brothers and me, "Guys, go to the other room. Now."

No one moved. We were riveted. Lela was a nurse, I kept thinking. It really wasn't right for a nurse to commit murder.

Suddenly, Lela turned her attention to my mom. "And you," she said in a low voice, "I'm sick of you?and those children." Her face was twisted with rage. My mother paled but otherwise sat perfectly still. Then Lela burst into tears as my dad wrested the knife away from her.

I still get nostalgic for that day, nearly 15 years ago. It was a seminal moment in family history, an apotheosis of acting out. I myself have often thought of taking a knife to my siblings, so I admired Lela for having the guts to actually attempt it.

I also loved the way Emma dared Lela to kill her. The only thing I regret was seeing Pichona?an innocent bystander?get smacked in the face. Otherwise, the whole episode was thoroughly enjoyable. After years of being lectured on good manners, I relished the spectacle of my older relatives flipping out. At the time, I wondered if this was going to lead to a dramatic rift in the family.

The rest of the afternoon was a letdown. We drove out to the cemetery in two limousines provided by the funeral home. Since everyone was too scared to ride with Lela, she rode alone with Grandpa's casket while the rest of us piled into the other car. After the graveside services, Lela disappeared for a few hours before nonchalantly reappearing at dinner. No one mentioned the incident, although there was a moment of tension when Emma asked someone to pass her the enchiladas. I held my breath, but nothing happened.

Since then, this whole episode seems to have been disturbingly erased from family history. Although my dad always giggles when I bring it up, he won't say anything when I ask him why Lela freaked. His standard response is, "I can't talk about it, or your mom will yell at me." My mother refuses to discuss the event at all.

"What knife?" Lola said when I raised the subject once. "At my dad's funeral? I don't remember any knife. My sister was just upset that day." She looked at me calmly.

Pichona was equally in denial. She claimed she couldn't remember anything from Grandpa's funeral because she had had a migraine.

My brothers' only contribution was to remind me that Lela was my godmother, and that in case anything happened to my parents, I'd have to spend the rest of my life with her.

That left Emma. When I pressed her, she admitted, "Oh, I remember everything. Lela just snapped, I guess. I forgive her."

"Are you sure? Even though she tried to kill you?"

"Well, Lela has?issues. Stop bringing this up, Raul. You have to move on."

A few years ago, I worked up the nerve to ask Lela herself about her outburst. Visiting her house, I looked through some old family photos on her desk. I deliberately picked out a few pictures of Grandpa and called Lela over.

"Remember when we all got together for the funeral?" I asked.

"Oh, that was such a terrible day?" Lela said. "It was awful. That was a hard time for me, for all of us, I know we, I mean I, was a little sensitive. But I loved my father very much. I was so devastated." She sighed. "Oh well, kid, that's life. You know I love you. You're the future. You're the greatest."

Lela reached over and held my hand, so I felt compelled to say something to continue our bonding.

"I've always been glad that you're my godmother, Lela. You're so different from everyone else."

There was a moment of silence.

"Oh yeah. There's something I should tell you. It's nothing. It's silly, really. But, technically, I'm not your godmother anymore."

"What do you mean? Because I'm older now?"

"Uh, no. Like I said, I was upset when your Grandpa died. I didn't know what I was doing. So after the services, I went down to the church and had myself annulled as your godmother."

"I didn't even know that was possible?"

"Usually it's not. But I was hysterical, and I wrote a check to the Virgin of Guadalupe Festival Fund and the priest terminated my?uh, godmothership."

"Why did you do that?"

"Maybe I was angry at your mother. Or the whole family. Or?I don't know."

After this revelation, I finally let the subject drop.

Last year, Lela celebrated her 70th birthday, and all my relatives gathered for a surprise party. Lela was ecstatic, reveling in the hugs, the presents and a huge cake. My mom made an effusive toast to her "favorite big sister," and no one even flinched when Pichona handed Lela a large, gleaming knife to cut the cake.

Lela held the knife aloft in one hand while Lola snapped a picture and everyone cheered. I realized that my family was more heavily into the forgive-and-forget mode than I ever would have imagined.

Then I glanced over at my dad, standing in the back of the crowded kitchen. He was smiling broadly. When his eyes met mine, he made a cutting gesture across his throat with his index finger and laughed. So I wasn't the only one who noticed the irony. I'm just the only one without a godmother.