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!