Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Four graves and a funeral


I don't have much to say tonight (unbelievable, I know), but I wanted to write something because it's one of the things I try to do each day (except Saturday) as a way to discipline myself.

I spent the day today in my boyhood hometown, attending the funeral of my 91-year-old aunt, who passed away on Sunday. While I hadn't seen her in many, many years, I do have very fond memories of her from when I was a boy. And her husband, my Uncle Ed, is still going strong at 90. Uncle Ed, my late father's oldest brother, is still incredibly handsome and still drives! I could be so lucky when I'm 90.

Whenever I go back there and see family members I haven't seen in years, I'm overcome with memories and feelings and, as usual, they're complicated and deep. It generally takes me a day or two to process them, so I'm not ready to even go there yet. But I can say that today, despite the solemn occasion, was a good day. I even forced myself to visit the graves of some loved ones that I purposefully avoid because the grief that inevitably arises can be shockingly painful.

But I'm back home, and the Cubs are winning (so far), so everything is good. I do need to get back into a better work schedule, and my eating habits of late have been atrocious. But I'm alive and above ground, and sometimes that's good enough.

See you all tomorrow.

4 comments:

  1. I've only visited the graves of relatives past one time. My grandparents died when I was 6 (nonnie) and 10 (gramps) in Wichita, KS. I moved to Wichita when I was 18. I moved out when I was 19. The next to the last day, I went to the cemetery, and after nine years and going from child to adult, I knew exactly where the graves were, even though my dad didn't let me out of the limo because I was such a bawling mess and he was afraid I'd distrupt the service. It took me a year to go there, and only went because I'd not have the opportunity again for who knew how long. I've lost many a friend and relative, but I've never visited another grave. I guess I'm weird about death. I see no reason to stare at a stone and patch of grass. The person I'm looking for isn't there anymore.

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  2. Thanks for sharing this deeply personal post Terry.

    My mom died when I was young and for years her ashes were kept in this really creepy place called a columbarium. It made it really hard to visit her.

    When my dad died last year my sisters and I finally got her ashes out of there so that we could do our own thing with them. It has helped.

    Today's guest blogger is Michelle McLean!

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  3. 91 years old, and still had her 90 year old husband with her. Sounds like your aunt lived a long, full life.

    I appreciate what you mean about the past trudging up some deep (and at time disturbing) feelings. For me it's not my family so much as when I meet up with old childhood friends.

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