My grandfather is one of 14 kids, one of his sisters, Dolores - we call her Tia Lolita, is IMO, a livewire.  She's about 4'10" tall, she gave birth to 3 children - all them in the 10 lb plus range, and took care of her husband until he died, and one son until he died.  Wow, she's a strong woman.  She speaks very little english and until recently was taking care of herself and various great-grandchildren.  She suffers from dementia now and has been entered into resident care.  She didn't drive, she was chauffered wherever she needed to go or she simply walked.  She walked to the grocery store - which was really nearby - less than a mile.  She walked to church - about 2 miles from her small, simple home.  If we saw her walking home, we would stop and offer her a lift home, sometimes she'd readily get in, sometimes she would be close to home and wave us off.  She enjoyed the little walk or she didn't want to be a bother.  She had a wicked sense of humor - like all of Grampa's siblings.  Simply wicked!
I look like my mother, so even if I didn't see her often she always recognized me, she'd always say if you know one of us, you know all of us!  But since the dementia has invaded her little body, she doesn't recognize me.  She sat next to me at the funeral home, and as we recited the Rosary, she prayed - out loud - no mumbling for Tia Lolita, and she recited every  Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be in English.
She was my Sponsor for Holy Communion. 
I wasn't raised in church, my family was not the regular church goers.  As the saying goes we belonged to the Church of C & E - Christmas and Easter.  Mom probably would have had us there every Sunday and Holy day, but Dad didn't enforce it and she probably just gave up the battle.  I believe that thru the prayers of my Grampa and my Tia Lolita, that brought me back to the Church, to pick up the study - not again, but for the first time, and gave me the confidence to teach - to minister in many different ways.
Thank you, thank you Mom, Tia Lola, and thank you Grampa.  I love you all very much.

Saying Goodbye

Day one:  oh, okay.  So, I'm blogging.  Kind of like journal-ing, just gotta remember to keep it even keeled.  

So today, my family buried my Grandfather.  He was 94 years old in April - and until just these last few months was fairly independent - as much as anyone can be at 94.  He  had been married over 60 years until his wife, Maria passed on several years ago, was the father of 12, grandfather to 38, great-grandfather to 60, and great-great-grandfather to 12, half of which he had come to know.  He was one of 12 children, himself, so today's funeral Mass was rather a small village.  We filled the church, yes we did.

I had to do one of the readings.  My aunt Blanche played the "granddaughter" card reminding me that I was after all, his oldest Granddaughter.  I managed - a few stops as I choked back tears. 

Grandparents are wonderful creatures, providing unconditional love and lots of food - desserts first, if you ask, and hugs and - all those things I'm so going to miss.  I never heard my grandfather curse, never heard him scold, never saw him drink or smoke. 
He loved to dance and party.  Loved to dance, the last time I danced with my grandfather was at a family reunion 4 years ago, he didn't stop dancing, tho, I stopped going to the reunions!  We got in line, first the daughters danced with him, then the granddaughters and a few of the great granddaughters - some of the great grands were too young!  And he never missed Mass the next day.  He refused to, saying if he could dance all night, he could go to church the following morning. And what a sense of humor he had!