Tuesday, August 11, 1992

“My uncle T.’s funeral was held…it felt like he was communicating to all of us.”

*NOTE: I don’t have an actual diary entry from either myself or my grandmother for this day, but wanted to conclude this part of my grandmother’s story.

My uncle T’s funeral was held on a day where it was thundering all afternoon and we had the first real storms of the summer. It felt like he was communicating to all of us, who had gathered at his and J2’s house after the service. I felt like he was saying, and this comes straight from my journal a few days later, “I wasn’t really ready to die yet; there’s some unfinished business with the family I never got a chance to take care of, and I want it to be done, right.” T., let me tell you, all of that thunder and lightning intimidated us all and we definitely took notice. I’ll certainly always remember it, and I’ve been trying to carry on as you would. Things aren’t perfect, but they are the best they can be under the circumstances.

This was also from my journal: Both men I’ve felt closest to in a daughterly way were taken from me. I’ll be afraid to get too close to people for the rest of my life. You can think to yourself, “he’s gone,” but it doesn’t really mean anything until you feel that loss, and the fact that I’ll never be able to talk to him again.

I didn’t write about this, but on the day of my uncle T.’s funeral, I was riding in the car with my aunt J. and uncle P. driving, and was in the back seat with my grandmother and my mom, heading to the funeral home for his service. My grandmother started acting up about not wanting to go back to the nursing home afterwards and just wouldn’t shut up about it, saying, “I’m going home, I’m not going back there.” (despite the fact that she no longer had a home to go to, as it was on the market for sale). I lost it, and I remember screaming at her to settle down and act right, to think of my aunt J2 and cousins LD and DS, and not to make this day all about her. I think I might have told her that he woudn’t have died if it weren’t for the stress she put him under…I’m not completely sure about that part; you know how unreliable memories can be. I know I wanted to say that, but if I did, I would have felt guilty about it. Even though it was true.

Next week will likely be the last week of this blog, as I will wrap up the rest of my grandmother’s life. Yes, she did live beyond 1992, although it wasn’t a pleasant existence for her.

Photo by Waldemar Brandt on Unsplash