Reflections…

The viewing/visitation was simultaneously both easier and harder than I expected.

The hard part was seeing how sad my grandma was, and hearing her talk about grandpa…they’d been married for 65 years. 65 years! And even as cantankerous as grandma can be, you could tell she really did love him, and missed him.

Seeing grandpa was hard, but I didn’t have any of the lingering regrets of wishing I’d told him I loved him, because last time I saw him, when I was here 3 years ago when he was in the hospital, I did just that. It may have been the only time I’d verbally said it too…there was never a doubt that I did love him, but it was an unspoken thing.

We also had some levity injected into the time there…now please, people, know that this wasn’t at all any disrespect for grandpa… but these included references to Weekend at Bernie’s (renamed Weekend with Grandpa, but couldn’t find a convertible), and then while taking pictures of a bunch of the family outside, grandma was, jokingly, pole-dancing. Or it least it looked like it. My uncle–on JoAnn’s new camera–got the picture, which I’ll post once I get back. Or maybe sooner when the coffee kicks in.

The viewing/visitation was simultaneously both easier and harder than I expected. The hard part was seeing how sad my grandma was, and hearing her talk about grandpa…they’d been married for 65 years. 65 years! And even as cantankerous as grandma can be, you could tell she really did love him, and missed him. Seeing grandpa was…