8am at Kennedy Airport is not the place to try and find solace.
Pops,
I'm sorry you couldn't stick around to see all of your dreams come true. Like legitimate great-grandchildren, my getting a PhD, and the Dodgers coming back to Brooklyn. What I am glad for, however, are the 29 years I had you to guide me and mold me into something this family (what's left of it) can be proud of. It meant the world to me that you thought so highly of me. I am thankful for your love and strength through everything I have had to endure these past few years, and your constant support has allowed me to know I have much to continue fighting for. I am also thankful your pain is now gone because it's been difficult watch what vibrance you possessed drift away. I really don't know what else to say to you, since I am sure you have now gained the omniscience to already know what I'm thinking and how I feel, and knowing you, you wish there was something you could do to ease our collective loss. I say you've already done that a thousand times. By living as have done, by loving us all so deeply, and by giving us so many wonderful things to hold on to now that you've left us.
I love you always,
Michael
Pop was moved to the VA hospital in West Palm Beach last week since he needed more direct care than his local hospital could provide. He lasted until overnight Thursday. I got the call Friday around noon at work from my grandmother, his wife of 62 years. I left work and went back to Gainesville, packed a few thousand things in a blur, and off to south Florida I went. I called no one. I told none of my friends what was going on. I did manage to send an email to a few people calling off the pilgrimage to NY, since we would be heading to NY as a family to bury Pop. There were a few people I wanted to call to talk about things, to try and work it all out, but as per usual I did nothing and turned it all inward as to not be a burden on those I care for. I feel I can be enough of one without dumping on them when I have issues. I arrived in WPB, collected my grandmother, and brought her back to Vero to pack. She did so diligently and calmly, like someone who has known this to be coming for a long time, someone who has prepared for it. As the executor of his estate, I had to make all the arrangements. I found them surprisingly easy to make, and even easier in some areas since we had pre-planned a few things years before. The hardest part was getting his body released to the funeral home... Anyway a call or two here, a call or two there, and two $740 plane tickets to NY and we were on our way. This was Saturday by the way. Sunday we met with the undertaker, I made a few arrangements with the honor guard and his Masonic lodge, and everything was ready. Monday was the funeral mass at St. Patrick's (something of which he had always dreamed) and Tuesday morning the interment at Pinelawn. He was laid out with full military honors at the national cemetery, since evidently being the highest commissioned officer to not attend West Point in about 100 years is some kind of big deal. Allow to list the attendees at the services: Nana, Rich, me, US Army honor guard, Philo Lodge whatever-they're-called, Father Something-or-other. Umm, don't I have like 20 living relatives in the tri-state area, including two cousins, one of whom flew two hours two weeks ago to see him but couldn't be bothered to drive two hours to bury him? Where were you people??? We didn't do anything else as a family that day since some things didn't sit right with me (see below) so I did my usual. I drove to Gantry Plaza in Queens. I sat for about four hours. I watched fireworks. I cried like a four year old child. And then I went to the airport to get my ass on a plane.
Nana told me after the service that she was going to move to Charleston to be with Rich (my newly-divorced uncle) and that she would be returning home with him Wednesday (today). I was to pack up what was necessary and send it off to her. If she hadn't just lost her husband and wasn't 94 I think I might have hit her. It feels like now I've lost everyone I had left. I am also to care for all of his estate-type things, but that's fine. But now I'm broke since I had to drop about 15 large to pay for all this. Not that I'm bitching, but I never knew it was so expensive to die.
I guess I just have a lot of emotions going through me right now, and I'm doing my best to keep it all together.
So anyway, here I sit, at JFK, waiting for my flight. It's now 9 am and I have to go in a second or so. But in other news, I have another round with Dr. McDeadly today which I think I'm going to cancel (or do I mean stop going?) and about a million other things to do. What's really odd is my serious desire to go to work right now...
Also in other news, Scott has turned himself in and is beginning to serve his 22 month sentence for running over the unlicensed street racing no helmet wearing motorcycle kids. Tough shit, kid you took the plea now deal with it. At least he's used to that whole ass-rape thing (another story).
Sage - I was hoping for an email from you this weekend but when I checked this morning I saw nothing. I hope we're still chatting and everything's OK.
Kim - I wish I was there to hit the town with you and everyone else last night. I hope you had a good time. Which, judging by your orgasm-related entry this morning you did. And the whole Normandy thing, my family invaded New York, my grandfather invaded Normandy in 1944, and evidently you were invaded by some lucky man... Funny how it all ties together. I promise I'll be my usual happy (if not Pagliacci-esque) self once we talk again. And I look forward to a full recount of this weekend when we get together...
Trisha - Calling me during a funeral is bad form. You knew it was going on, and you called anyway. I fail to recognize why you must be such a needy bitch sometimes... I have not yet figured out what to do with you, but I think it will involve velvet ants and bondage of the unpleasant nature. Enjoy the third canto of hell.
Bo Bice - Thank you for singing the national anthem as it should be sung, without the Whitney Houston reminiscent wavering and liberal rubato. Now of we could only get you to work on your tonal centers... And damnit, what were you wearing? FLIP FLOPS? DURING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM ON 4 JULY???
I think that ends my rant. I'm sorry if I'm a bit emotional and disconnected, but I'm sure you'll all understand...
Please call me to talk, I love all of you and want to talk to all of you (especially you) but I'm going to have a hard time picking up the phone to dial for a few days.
I'm sorry you couldn't stick around to see all of your dreams come true. Like legitimate great-grandchildren, my getting a PhD, and the Dodgers coming back to Brooklyn. What I am glad for, however, are the 29 years I had you to guide me and mold me into something this family (what's left of it) can be proud of. It meant the world to me that you thought so highly of me. I am thankful for your love and strength through everything I have had to endure these past few years, and your constant support has allowed me to know I have much to continue fighting for. I am also thankful your pain is now gone because it's been difficult watch what vibrance you possessed drift away. I really don't know what else to say to you, since I am sure you have now gained the omniscience to already know what I'm thinking and how I feel, and knowing you, you wish there was something you could do to ease our collective loss. I say you've already done that a thousand times. By living as have done, by loving us all so deeply, and by giving us so many wonderful things to hold on to now that you've left us.
I love you always,
Michael
Pop was moved to the VA hospital in West Palm Beach last week since he needed more direct care than his local hospital could provide. He lasted until overnight Thursday. I got the call Friday around noon at work from my grandmother, his wife of 62 years. I left work and went back to Gainesville, packed a few thousand things in a blur, and off to south Florida I went. I called no one. I told none of my friends what was going on. I did manage to send an email to a few people calling off the pilgrimage to NY, since we would be heading to NY as a family to bury Pop. There were a few people I wanted to call to talk about things, to try and work it all out, but as per usual I did nothing and turned it all inward as to not be a burden on those I care for. I feel I can be enough of one without dumping on them when I have issues. I arrived in WPB, collected my grandmother, and brought her back to Vero to pack. She did so diligently and calmly, like someone who has known this to be coming for a long time, someone who has prepared for it. As the executor of his estate, I had to make all the arrangements. I found them surprisingly easy to make, and even easier in some areas since we had pre-planned a few things years before. The hardest part was getting his body released to the funeral home... Anyway a call or two here, a call or two there, and two $740 plane tickets to NY and we were on our way. This was Saturday by the way. Sunday we met with the undertaker, I made a few arrangements with the honor guard and his Masonic lodge, and everything was ready. Monday was the funeral mass at St. Patrick's (something of which he had always dreamed) and Tuesday morning the interment at Pinelawn. He was laid out with full military honors at the national cemetery, since evidently being the highest commissioned officer to not attend West Point in about 100 years is some kind of big deal. Allow to list the attendees at the services: Nana, Rich, me, US Army honor guard, Philo Lodge whatever-they're-called, Father Something-or-other. Umm, don't I have like 20 living relatives in the tri-state area, including two cousins, one of whom flew two hours two weeks ago to see him but couldn't be bothered to drive two hours to bury him? Where were you people??? We didn't do anything else as a family that day since some things didn't sit right with me (see below) so I did my usual. I drove to Gantry Plaza in Queens. I sat for about four hours. I watched fireworks. I cried like a four year old child. And then I went to the airport to get my ass on a plane.
Nana told me after the service that she was going to move to Charleston to be with Rich (my newly-divorced uncle) and that she would be returning home with him Wednesday (today). I was to pack up what was necessary and send it off to her. If she hadn't just lost her husband and wasn't 94 I think I might have hit her. It feels like now I've lost everyone I had left. I am also to care for all of his estate-type things, but that's fine. But now I'm broke since I had to drop about 15 large to pay for all this. Not that I'm bitching, but I never knew it was so expensive to die.
I guess I just have a lot of emotions going through me right now, and I'm doing my best to keep it all together.
So anyway, here I sit, at JFK, waiting for my flight. It's now 9 am and I have to go in a second or so. But in other news, I have another round with Dr. McDeadly today which I think I'm going to cancel (or do I mean stop going?) and about a million other things to do. What's really odd is my serious desire to go to work right now...
Also in other news, Scott has turned himself in and is beginning to serve his 22 month sentence for running over the unlicensed street racing no helmet wearing motorcycle kids. Tough shit, kid you took the plea now deal with it. At least he's used to that whole ass-rape thing (another story).
Sage - I was hoping for an email from you this weekend but when I checked this morning I saw nothing. I hope we're still chatting and everything's OK.
Kim - I wish I was there to hit the town with you and everyone else last night. I hope you had a good time. Which, judging by your orgasm-related entry this morning you did. And the whole Normandy thing, my family invaded New York, my grandfather invaded Normandy in 1944, and evidently you were invaded by some lucky man... Funny how it all ties together. I promise I'll be my usual happy (if not Pagliacci-esque) self once we talk again. And I look forward to a full recount of this weekend when we get together...
Trisha - Calling me during a funeral is bad form. You knew it was going on, and you called anyway. I fail to recognize why you must be such a needy bitch sometimes... I have not yet figured out what to do with you, but I think it will involve velvet ants and bondage of the unpleasant nature. Enjoy the third canto of hell.
Bo Bice - Thank you for singing the national anthem as it should be sung, without the Whitney Houston reminiscent wavering and liberal rubato. Now of we could only get you to work on your tonal centers... And damnit, what were you wearing? FLIP FLOPS? DURING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM ON 4 JULY???
I think that ends my rant. I'm sorry if I'm a bit emotional and disconnected, but I'm sure you'll all understand...
Please call me to talk, I love all of you and want to talk to all of you (especially you) but I'm going to have a hard time picking up the phone to dial for a few days.