Musings On A Monday

Saturday was a strange day.  When you have an 18 month old, it doesn't leave you with a lot of time to sit and have any type of meaningful conversations.  But I was glad that I could be there for my Grandma and my Mom, even if the majority of my time was spent chasing Katelyn and keeping her from smashing all the china plates.

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When someone dies, I find that I am not as sad for myself.  Yes, I cry, but it's more for the others.  It's for my Grandma, who had to say good-bye to her partner and best friend of 65 years.  I cry for my Mom, who lost her father.  And a part of me cries because I know that will someday be me having to say good-bye to Mike or to my Dad.

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My Grandfather spent the last seven months of his life in a care home.  He passed away in his sleep.  I thought it was extremely touching that, when the funeral home brought his body out of his room, they had draped a Canadian flag over the stretcher.  The flag at the home was also lowered to half-mast.  A very nice touch for a WWII veteran.

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The supper on Saturday evening was odd.  There was regular chatting, talking and catching up.  I don't know why, but I had this picture that everyone should be sobbing, in between bites of casserole.  I know that life has to go on, but it just seems strange that it happens so quickly.

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During supper, Katelyn began to cough.  My aunt commented on what a well-trained little girl she is, given that she covered her mouth when she coughed.  I pointed out that I haven't taught her that.  Something I have taught her, though, is to say, "Niiiiiice" when someone farts.