Family Reunion on Sunday, YAY.
My family is dysfunctional, but at least my mom and I are just spectators rather than participants.
I didn't go to school today- mixture of an upset stomach and general "I don't want to put up with this today" attitude.
My uncle Pat and aunt Patricia are down from Vancouver, America, Jr. Canada. They're staying with Gerry/Stella/my mother/me until they head back. Saves money at all. It's not like the house doesn't have enough room, anyway.
After a few hours of huddling in a ball on the lounge chair and alternating between sleep and sickness, I felt a bit better and decided to go visit my grandparent's grave with my mom, Pat, and Patricia. I hadn't been there since I last lived in New Jersey, but I remember going to visit.
I always feel bad going to visit graves because I never feel sad. I'm one of those lucky people who hasn't had anyone very close to her die. My grandmother died before I was born, and my grandfather died when I was three. The only thing I can do is act solemn and regret that these people are nothing more than names engraved in stone to me while they mean everything to those around me.
But I'd rather things stay this way. I've seen people lose loved ones.
Anyway, here's the gravestone for my grandparents/my namesake, durhur. :B
This was in the row just before. The person's name hasn't been engraved yet. I wish the flowers would've been placed a bit nicer instead of looking like they were tossed on there (which they probably were). Can't they at least insert the stalks into the ground...?
I took a picture of this because it was large and placed separately from all the others; very noticeable. He died on 9/11 at the age of thirty.
We left to get flowers and decided to buy ones that we could plant in front of the marker instead of cut ones that would die. We had to get yellow lilies because my grandmother hated the color orange, what with her and grandfather being Irish and the whole William of Orange issue...
My mom said the stone on the grave was probably put there by a Jewish friend. It's supposedly a Jewish tradition, but I'd never heard of it before. I saw several markers like that, so I suppose she's right.
I'm surprised you can't see the rain in any of these pictures; it was pouring fairly hard.
I didn't go to school today- mixture of an upset stomach and general "I don't want to put up with this today" attitude.
My uncle Pat and aunt Patricia are down from Vancouver, America, Jr. Canada. They're staying with Gerry/Stella/my mother/me until they head back. Saves money at all. It's not like the house doesn't have enough room, anyway.
After a few hours of huddling in a ball on the lounge chair and alternating between sleep and sickness, I felt a bit better and decided to go visit my grandparent's grave with my mom, Pat, and Patricia. I hadn't been there since I last lived in New Jersey, but I remember going to visit.
I always feel bad going to visit graves because I never feel sad. I'm one of those lucky people who hasn't had anyone very close to her die. My grandmother died before I was born, and my grandfather died when I was three. The only thing I can do is act solemn and regret that these people are nothing more than names engraved in stone to me while they mean everything to those around me.
But I'd rather things stay this way. I've seen people lose loved ones.
Anyway, here's the gravestone for my grandparents/my namesake, durhur. :B
This was in the row just before. The person's name hasn't been engraved yet. I wish the flowers would've been placed a bit nicer instead of looking like they were tossed on there (which they probably were). Can't they at least insert the stalks into the ground...?
I took a picture of this because it was large and placed separately from all the others; very noticeable. He died on 9/11 at the age of thirty.
We left to get flowers and decided to buy ones that we could plant in front of the marker instead of cut ones that would die. We had to get yellow lilies because my grandmother hated the color orange, what with her and grandfather being Irish and the whole William of Orange issue...
My mom said the stone on the grave was probably put there by a Jewish friend. It's supposedly a Jewish tradition, but I'd never heard of it before. I saw several markers like that, so I suppose she's right.
I'm surprised you can't see the rain in any of these pictures; it was pouring fairly hard.