THE FUNERAL, THE FAMILY AND
Things in my life have been moving at a snail's pace.
When life gets like this I feel as if it's very hard to 'blog'.
I feel self concious and like Doogie Hauser M.D. tapping
away my thoughts of the day, coming to false conclusions
of what life is really about.
I am aware I am not pleasant to be around at these
times. I am in a catatonic state where I could stare at
a white wall all day. I forget to laugh. I have no time for
fun. I am like a humorless cave woman. Me must work.
Grunt. Me must pay bills. Grunt. Me no can have friends.
Grunt. Me no laugh. Me no have time for laugh. Grunt.
Blogging is interesting though. It is a venue of sorts
for me to let go and really write what I am thinking.
After I write what I am thinking I then go to my fotolog
to post photos of what I'm seeing. This is like a full
package digital purge of sorts. Letting things out the
way I see or hear them. For someone who tends to
hold a lot in for most of their life, I think this blog thing
is great. Over the past few months I have offended
a number of family members that read either of my
blogs and I have felt resistant to coming back. But
here I am once again. Unfrozen cave girl. It feels
good to be back again. Grunt.
I just returned from a weekend in Washington D.C.
where we finally buried my grandfather in Arlington
National Cemetery. My grandfather was a POW in a
German prisoner of war camp for two and a half years.
Stalag 17. There was a movie made about his camp.
Maybe some of you war buffs know about it.
It was nice to be around family and hear more stories
about him. He didn't talk much about his experience
until much later in life. He held a lot in. The stories
varied but all sounded very cinematic-the time his
British friend in the camp that perfected throwing
a sock ball from a window knocking down the main
generator line so they could sleep without the lights
on for one night-the time a German guard found
out my grandfather could sail and asked him to
teach him, etc. Pretty crazy stuff. My aunt also has
seven postcards he wrote from the camp-two to my
grandmother and the rest to the couple that raised
him. He was only allowed to write seven lines each.
And here without thinking I have already written 45.
So what is the Doogie Hauser MD conclusion from all
this? It's that when my entire family gets together
they are one funny and sarcastic bunch. While it was
a sad and moving experience there was a lot A LOT of
laughing. My grandfather would have wanted it that
way. Even in the hardest of times we literally had one
another cracking up with tears coming down our faces.
We may hold a lot in but when we let it out we let it
out. We feel stronger and bolder than we ever did
before. We move on.
As someone said when we left the cemetery,
"I wish grandpa was here...he would have loved it."