I have returned from one of the most depressing and horrible trips of my life. My first grandfather died when I was really too young to remember it, and the few other funerals I’ve attended were more distant relatives, and even the ones I was close to–again I was very young. Nothing really made sense. So this was my first “real” funeral, the first funeral of someone I’ve really really loved and known for a long time, someone who was really close to me, and it happened when I was finally old enough to understand the implications.
I don’t want to go into details, but overall, it was horrible.
But it did remind me how much I love family. All my Italian and Croatian relatives got together and we ate homemade sarma and we drank wine (that poor waiter couldn’t keep up with us) and I heard stories about the good old days and I was reminded what a big and joyful and wonderful family I have.
I’m recovering. I’m moving on. Here I go.