I know this is supposed to be a humorous thread. but I have spent a significant part of the day consoling the PR because a guy she liked in school died. I am so tired of tears and "hug me"s. At least it's sadness and a reasonable reaction to Stephen's passing. But it sure got old.
I am sorry this happened.
One thing that is certain about life, especially a long life, is that it is full of death.
I was six years old when my great grand mother (who had taught me to make biscuits) succumbed to cancer. I was twelve when my grand father (who had taught me to saw wood and join it properly and how to weld metals carefully and garden) died of heart attack. I was sixteen when my other grand father died (who had taught me to hunt and to butcher livestock from the farm and even make sausage).
I suppose my point is to find something that your loved one can carry on from the one who died, even if is a just a cool text message. Something to remember!
Godspeed!
She dedicated her bowling session to Stephen on Friday. the PR lost all of her grandparents before she was 13. She only has 2 geographically distant aunts and one cousin. So she's built up a family from my friends and other people she has met. She even has a black "Grandpa."
Much as my own dear wife has done with her mom's friends (her mom died twenty years ago). She has five brothers with families and they are awesome, but they are all "the same" as her and her/my family. Having these old (curmudgeons/ beautiful elder women) in her life, even as they pass one at a time, gives her a way to relive some moments of her mother's life.
I hope that your loved one continues to enjoy the company of these elders who are invested in her life, probably more so than she knows as a youth.
AND if she is down to her "last Grandpa" then, I wish him a long and love filled life.
Has anyone told you that you're a wonderful old softy?
Just the ones who actually know me.
At work they are always getting into some kind of "thing" requiring focused strength and exceptional concentration, such as simple things like an over tightened boom belt that no one can loosen. All seven of them have tried and no one can even loosen it, then when everyone is done, I just walk in, grab it the "right" way and snap it loose and unwind the whole thing.
At work, I am seen as one hard assed old gun-toting, tough nut with long lived martial arts skills that none of the youngsters even want to challenge even though they do so to each of themselves constantly. I am not allowed to play with them; they are all afraid to even try, because of things like a kid throwing keys at me from across the room when I had no idea that was about to happen and I see them coming two feet from my face and everyone is gasping and I catch them and say, "How about a warning next time!"
Or the time we had a massive wasp nest under our eves at the dock and when I found out about it I went in with a dust pan and knocked it down and whacked about twelve wasps which were deadset to kill me, using the dustpan as if it was a tennis racket, while they all took cover and whined that they were going to be stung. NO big deal, just wasps.
I have had to use one of my own camera as a mace against a group of bad guys in the past who wanted to steal it.
I grew up in a rough area.
I learned along the way that no matter how hardened you become, no matter how many years you spend punching and kicking a bag from all angles, you can only balance the hardness you have achieved by enjoying the better things in life, like needy kittens and brilliant daughters, experimental baking and challenging gardening, foreign poetry you must translate to read and fresh clean towels you have to work hard to accomplish and wonderful elderly "saints" still alive and kickin' who want nothing more than to share the joys and wisdom they have gained and experienced in their lives with those who mean something to them.
In passing at work, I met an eighty seven year old man a few days ago, wearing a cap blazoned with the logo, "USS MISSOURI" and I had to ask, being an history buff of sorts. Turns out he was a WWII veteran who helped build an air field in Okinawa and was aboard the USS Missouri when MacArthur refused to sign the surrender documents until the Japanese delegate had signed EVERY page just as it was written.
Talking to that old guy was amazing!
Yeah, I'm an old softy.
