Drained

Hi everyone, we're back from a rather long and emotionally draining weekend.  I'm not going to lie...getting out of bed this morning was pretty tough.  I felt like I could have used at least four more hours of good sleep.  BUT my saving grace this week is that we have a short work week with Thanksgiving coming up.  I so look forward to catching up on my sleep Thursday through Sunday.  We need it after the past few weeks. 

 

 

Thursday, I decided to stay home to catch up on things before we left town.  I thought that would be best; however, being at home by myself meant being alone with my thoughts.  I chose to override the possibility of tears and sadness with staying as physically busy as humanly possible.  This involved grocery shopping, trips to the bank and post office, vacuuming the downstairs of our house, completely setting up my Mary Kay open house (which involved multiple trips up and down stairs to bring items to my dining room), walking on the treadmill for 30 minutes, and doing all of the laundry in the house (cleaning and drying, folding and making the bed with clean sheets, etc.)  By the time I had done all of that, I was tired and my back hurt like nobody's business. 

 

 

Probably pushed it a little too hard, especially considering how painful it was to walk in the evening when we headed to our church for a memorial service for the priest who married us, who we also considered a close friend and mentor.  That service was hard.  He was only 55 and died from liver failure.  It was sudden and unexpected.  I didn't handle the service too well, and I chose to blame my crying on hormones.  Of course, T said only I would blame my feelings of sadness over something other than just the fact that it was sad.  But it was truly sad.  And a shock.  I still can't believe he's gone. 

 

 

We got up on Friday and headed to Terre Haute to meet my extended family for my Grandpa's wake.  And by my extended family, I mean 10 aunts and uncles, 15 grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren.  The wake started at 4:00 p.m., but the family had an hour before to be with my Grandpa and with each other.  I gripped onto T's hand as we each made our way to the casket to say a prayer.  I never handle this part well at all during funerals, and I couldn't hold back the tears this time or blame them on the hormones.  He looked so at peace, and despite the toll the past few month took on his body, the funeral home did a nice job in preparing him for burial.  But it hardly seemed real that he was gone.  Yes, that was his body, but not him.  He was already in heaven.   I felt bad for my nieces and nephews, too, because I know how hard it is to face this at such a young age.  My eight year old niece came up to me with tears in her eyes when she saw me crying saying "It makes me sad when people cry." It was hard.  It always is, and I don't think that ever gets any easier with age.  We were there for five hours, ending the day with a rosary, which Grandpa said daily.  He would dedicate a rosary to a certain person each night.  I was told, back in February, when we had my heart scare, that my Grandpa had said a few for me.  So our whole family said the rosary together for him. 

 

 

Saturday morning, we headed back to the funeral home for a quick prayer service.  Again, didn't handle this part very well.  The family had the opportunity to each say good bye to him before they closed the casket.  Never have I ever been able to fully say good bye at a funeral.  Not with my Aunt Linda or both of my Grandmas.  I can't do it.  I said I love you, as I touched the casket but I couldn't do more than that.  T, my rock, held my hand as we saw him for the very last time on this earth and headed to the church.  The funeral mass was touching.  Each grandchild had a part of the mass, as Grandpa would want it.  My Uncle Joe, the oldest child, gave a touching eulogy that made us laugh, smile and think fondly of the memories we had.  We processed out of the church and back to our cars to head to the cemetery.  As we got in the car, T looked to me and asked "are you okay?"  And of course, in my typical fashion, my response was "no, but I'm okay..." 

 

 

After the church, we headed to the cemetery for the military service before his burial.  On the way, we passed the home where he lived during his remaining years, and the landlord had put the American Flag at half-mast in honor of my Grandpa.  That was truly touching.  It was rainy and cold, but T said he saw a ray of light break through the clouds as we got to the cemetery.  Since my Grandpa was a veteran of World War II, the local VFW post was there to do a service in his honor.  They did a 21 gun salute followed by "Taps."  Despite my best efforts, I lost it during this part as well.  Something about that song gets me.  We concluded that service and headed out to the church hall for a luncheon.  After a three hour funeral service, we needed it.  T and I did want to see the headstone once before we left where both my Grandma and Grandpa's names were written.  The weight of the day broke me down, as I cried all over T's nice suit.  (Of course, not smudging makeup because I was wearing my trusty Mary Kay waterproof mascara, of course...)  My sister-in-law and twin eight year old niece and nephew joined us.  My sweet little niece gave me a hug and said "I'm so sorry, Aunt Nain, that you don't have any more grandmas or grandpas."  I gave her a kiss and reassured her that, yes, I do.  They're just in heaven. 

 

 

After lunch, I passed out for a good hour to two hours taking a nap in the hotel before leaving for dinner.  My Grandpa had a favorite restaurant in the small town where he was raised and lived until his passing, Kleptz, and he used to frequent the bar in this restaurant with my great-grandpa during my Grandpa's Navy days.  So all 45 of  us met there and shared a meal in his honor.  We needed it after the day we had, and I have no doubt he was watching down on us as we toasted him and shared our memories.  The dinner lasted until 10:00 or so, and by that point, I was at complete exhaustion.  In traditional family style, it was hard to get people rallied and ready to go back to the hotel.  This evolved into an argumentbetween T and I late that night, of which was my fault and was based solely out of exhaustion, irrationality, and just too many emotions from everything.  I think it was just an explosion of everything.  Short-lived, and completely unnecessary.  But my emotions were high, and I wasn't quite sure how to handle them. 

 

 

T was my rock this weekend, and I have no idea what I'd do without him.  It was difficult, I'm not going to lie.  As much as I knew this was coming and as much as I wanted him to be at peace, I'm still heartbroken that he is gone.  He will be missed so much.  God Bless you, Grandpa, and thank you for everything you have instilled in us as a family, all the love you have given, and for the amazing man you are.  We love you.