Feeling Low
My mom’s mom, my grandmother, passed away on Wednesday night. She was 87 and the last of that generation of our family to pass. Now we need to do the trek back to New Jersey for the funeral and gathering. In the meantime, Lori and I still need to get settled in Ohio. The weather man says we are in for a full November blow tonight.
At 87 years of age she wasn’t ancient, but she had a full life. I only hope to be as vibrant active and aware as she was up until the last few months. Her passing wasn’t surprise and dad tells me she went peacefully in her sleep, not screaming in terror like her passengers. I’m kidding about the passengers of course. I just think that I would be okay with my story ending the same way.
This makes mom and dad the eldest generation. Dad’s dad passed back during the summer. It also makes me the next generation. I’m not sure I’m ready to move into this phase of life. I’m not ready for the child to reproduce and I certainly don’t feel prepared. I can only imagine how mom and dad feel.
The next thing to do is to travel to New Jersey for the funeral stuffs. This means a testy 10 hours in the car with mom, dad, brother, sister and wife. Followed by conversations with relatives I never see. I hate this part. The problem is it becomes reunion, but only because of death. And as much as I grieve and am truly sad, from the perspective of my aunts, uncles, mom and dad, Nano-Banano was their parent. This is also the first time most of the extended family will meet my wife. So what’s the right way to feel? Guilty I suppose.
I think the witch of November is sending this storm to reflect my mood. The pressures are that Lori and I are still trying to figure out the job thing in Ohio. I’m employed in a crappy job I’m trying to change. Lori is interviewing for a promising position at this moment. There isn’t enough room in the home we are renting for all of our crap from Seattle. Courtnei is trying to figure out life. I’m sure we’ll survive and things will turn out well. I do believe that life doesn’t hand you more then you can handle, but must everything be a test? Bring on the snow!
At 87 years of age she wasn’t ancient, but she had a full life. I only hope to be as vibrant active and aware as she was up until the last few months. Her passing wasn’t surprise and dad tells me she went peacefully in her sleep, not screaming in terror like her passengers. I’m kidding about the passengers of course. I just think that I would be okay with my story ending the same way.
This makes mom and dad the eldest generation. Dad’s dad passed back during the summer. It also makes me the next generation. I’m not sure I’m ready to move into this phase of life. I’m not ready for the child to reproduce and I certainly don’t feel prepared. I can only imagine how mom and dad feel.
The next thing to do is to travel to New Jersey for the funeral stuffs. This means a testy 10 hours in the car with mom, dad, brother, sister and wife. Followed by conversations with relatives I never see. I hate this part. The problem is it becomes reunion, but only because of death. And as much as I grieve and am truly sad, from the perspective of my aunts, uncles, mom and dad, Nano-Banano was their parent. This is also the first time most of the extended family will meet my wife. So what’s the right way to feel? Guilty I suppose.
I think the witch of November is sending this storm to reflect my mood. The pressures are that Lori and I are still trying to figure out the job thing in Ohio. I’m employed in a crappy job I’m trying to change. Lori is interviewing for a promising position at this moment. There isn’t enough room in the home we are renting for all of our crap from Seattle. Courtnei is trying to figure out life. I’m sure we’ll survive and things will turn out well. I do believe that life doesn’t hand you more then you can handle, but must everything be a test? Bring on the snow!
1 Comments:
Mom and Dad are doin just fine. They enjoy the wisdom they are gaining with age. However, they still worry way too much about their Children and grandchild.
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