Thursday, June 25, 2009

The part where Farrah Fawcett and my Uncle Chuck go skipping off to heaven...

So you know how old people who love each other die around the same time? Well, my uncle Chuck, my grandmother's companion for the last 15 years, died this week - Just six weeks after her. I think it's sweet, and I am SO happy that he is not in pain anymore. He had been in chronic pain for over a decade, rallying mightily at my grandmother's funeral, but I'm still glad he has peace now.

Now me? Peace is not exactly the right phrase. I think this is coming right at the moment that I hit the "Anger" phase of my grief process, so I'm feeling quite a hefty dose of righteous indignation about having to stand up for their relationship during the planning of my Grandmother's funeral. (good girls don't talk about such things, I know, and while I hope I don't hurt anyone that reads this by talking about such matters here, this blog is mine, and I need to be able to write what I feel, or else make it private because these things aren't doing me any favors holed up in the deep recesses of my bowels, threatening to chew their way out. And yes, I know that was a run-on sentence, if you don't like it, you can just run-on outta here.)

...I'm really glad I did stand up for what I thought was right though, and that I got to see Chuck one last time a few weeks ago, sit next to him during the service, and feel good about all the wonderful times in the last 15 years that I saw him, spent time talking to him, and that I always was able to see beyond my grief at the loss of my grandfather to see him for what he was: a terribly flawed man that needed help, but that treated love like a base jump off the Sears Tower.

I can just see him grabbing Farrah's hand and saying, "follow me, 'darlin, I'll introduce you to some folks!"

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