Uncle Rudy

Today I attended a funeral for a close family member.  Ever since my mom's funeral, it's been incredibly difficult to attend funerals, which, unfortunately, I've had several to attend.

When my grandmother died in September of 2009, I was able to dissassociate myself from the entire situation.  I kept telling myself that I was just a stranger looking in and watching.  Not a granddaughter who had lost her grandmother, but just somebody who was sitting in church listening to people talk about this woman, Violet, who had passed.  I was able to get through it by not thinking about it.  Everytime it would start to hit me, I would think of something else:  a grocery list, my dog, what I had to do at work the next day.

Today's funeral was different.  I couldn't stop being  in the present, no matter how hard I tried.  As much as I tried, it was so difficult to not let what was happening affect me.  I kept thinking:  laundry, tomorrow's work meeting, shampoo, but sometimes I couldn't take my mind off of where I was and what I was experiencing.  And at those times, I cried.

I came home and picked up Leah from daycare and we spent the afternoon playing.  And, as I did a Barney puzzle with her and opened up the Play Doh container, and put magnetic letters on the fridge, I was no longer sad.  I was no longer thinking of the funeral.  I was somewhere else.  Finally.

I'll miss you, Uncle Rudy.
.
.
.