In the Garden
Well, my trouts, it's been quite the week.
When I talked to my parents on Sunday, and asked my usual "How's Grandma doing?" the answer was "not so well," but she has come out of rough spots before, so I thought little of it.
On Monday I started my new job. I work for the Alberta Department of Innovation & Science, as Administrative Asst. #2 to the Assistant Deputy Minister of Policy & Strategic Planning. Sweet gig, and I think it will be both challenging and excellent on my resume. Anyway, I 'worked' there Mon-Wed, 'work' being a generalization, as my computer wasn't up & running until Wednesday afternoon. I'm pretty psyched about the job, and glad it's only part-time.
Tuesday night Mom called, and said she had just put Dad on a bus for Ontario. Grandma wasn't doing well, but we didn't know how long it would be. He would get in on Thursday evening, and his ticket was one-way, in case he had to stay awhile.
On Wednesday evening, Mom called: Grandma passed away Wednesday morning. From failing on Saturday to gone, in no time. Peacefully. And so plans were made on the spot.
Thursday I worked at the Strathcona County Museum, my new volunteer post. I'm working on archives, and they're going to train me to the point where I can process a fond from scratch. Ver good. The hard parts of the day were when two seniors tours came through, but I just hid and cried a bit.
On Friday, bright and early, Law took me to the airport and after an insanely long and lonely day of travelling and waiting, I arrived in London ON around 8pm.
And that's where I am now, at my aunt's house. Today we drove to Arthur for Gram's funeral. Arthur is her, and my Dad's, home town. It's a pretty little town. Many extended cousins came to visit, for the viewing and the funeral, and the lunch afterwards. I tried to piece together my family tree as I put faces to names I've heard all my life. It was a bit exhausting to be 'on' all day, but I'm glad I came.
It's funny when a person is prepared for burial. Because as good a job as the funeral people do, they never look quite like themselves. What you remember about that person is not the shape of their face or the colour of their nails. It's their flashing black eyes. Their smile. Their laugh. The way they could cut to the bone with one quiet, pointed line about the way you are dressed or how you didn't quite do something right (the famous Ternan Disappointment). Or the way they smelled when you hugged them. Or how, the last time you saw them, you kinda knew it would be the last time.
Farewell Gram. We will miss you. Say hi to Uncle Reg when you get there.
When I talked to my parents on Sunday, and asked my usual "How's Grandma doing?" the answer was "not so well," but she has come out of rough spots before, so I thought little of it.
On Monday I started my new job. I work for the Alberta Department of Innovation & Science, as Administrative Asst. #2 to the Assistant Deputy Minister of Policy & Strategic Planning. Sweet gig, and I think it will be both challenging and excellent on my resume. Anyway, I 'worked' there Mon-Wed, 'work' being a generalization, as my computer wasn't up & running until Wednesday afternoon. I'm pretty psyched about the job, and glad it's only part-time.
Tuesday night Mom called, and said she had just put Dad on a bus for Ontario. Grandma wasn't doing well, but we didn't know how long it would be. He would get in on Thursday evening, and his ticket was one-way, in case he had to stay awhile.
On Wednesday evening, Mom called: Grandma passed away Wednesday morning. From failing on Saturday to gone, in no time. Peacefully. And so plans were made on the spot.
Thursday I worked at the Strathcona County Museum, my new volunteer post. I'm working on archives, and they're going to train me to the point where I can process a fond from scratch. Ver good. The hard parts of the day were when two seniors tours came through, but I just hid and cried a bit.
On Friday, bright and early, Law took me to the airport and after an insanely long and lonely day of travelling and waiting, I arrived in London ON around 8pm.
And that's where I am now, at my aunt's house. Today we drove to Arthur for Gram's funeral. Arthur is her, and my Dad's, home town. It's a pretty little town. Many extended cousins came to visit, for the viewing and the funeral, and the lunch afterwards. I tried to piece together my family tree as I put faces to names I've heard all my life. It was a bit exhausting to be 'on' all day, but I'm glad I came.
It's funny when a person is prepared for burial. Because as good a job as the funeral people do, they never look quite like themselves. What you remember about that person is not the shape of their face or the colour of their nails. It's their flashing black eyes. Their smile. Their laugh. The way they could cut to the bone with one quiet, pointed line about the way you are dressed or how you didn't quite do something right (the famous Ternan Disappointment). Or the way they smelled when you hugged them. Or how, the last time you saw them, you kinda knew it would be the last time.
Farewell Gram. We will miss you. Say hi to Uncle Reg when you get there.