Here’s to you, grandpa

I might not have much time today to blog – judging from the crib boxing I hear going on upstairs.

It’s been a sad week. On Tuesday my coworker and friend Carol lost her husband Greg unexpectedly. He was 59 years old and she went home for lunch and found him unresponsive. His heart just stopped beating. It’s like your worst nightmare coming true. I can’t imagine her shock and thought process trying to comprehend it all this past week. I even had a dream about it all one night. I dreamt someone told me that it was a mistake, it wasn’t her husband afterall, it was the gardner. OK, she doesn’t have a gardner I know of – dreams don’t always make sense. But I was so relieved for her. So, anyway, if the whole thing is a little unreal to me I can’t imagine if that was my husband or my dad. They also leave behind 18 grandchildren. The youngest was just born in July.

So that leads me to our weekend. We were going to go to Ludington. We really miss Steve’s family and haven’t even met our newest nephew yet, but I felt I was needed to help with the funeral dinner and I wanted to show my support by going to the calling and funeral. Don’t get me wrong, I have some perspective here. I’m not sorry about our weekend – we’ll get up there soon. I keep thinking of something comedian Kevin Nealon wrote about in his book. He said that he was scheduled to go to New Orleans the week after Hurrican Katrina hit, but of course he couldn’t go when the hurricane struck. So, he kept jokingly saying “Why am I so unlucky?”

The funeral was really nice. The grandkids all stood up and spoke. It was so sweet. He was very loved. It made me think a lot about my own grandpa’s funeral though and how disappointed I am that I missed it. It was just the day after I gave birth to Ella and I was in the hospital when I got the call from my mom saying that my grandpa had died. I was sad he would never meet Ella, but I also kinda thought it was neat that as my grandpa passed away a new life came into the world. Strangely two months earlier a friend of ours lost his dad, but shortly after my nephew Finn was born. Guess there really is a circle of life.

I did go to the calling. It was five days after Ella was born. The first time I left the house. We had Steve’s parents come down from Michigan to watch her. Obviously my parents would be at the funeral home all day. I was so emotional. I don’t think I had postpartum. I was far from being depressed, but I had no idea what an emotional wreck I would be after having a baby. Add a funeral to that and it’s hard to hold yourself together. And physically I wasn’t really healed yet either.

I’ll always remember when I ran into a friend of the family and she asked me what I had been up to and I said “Well, I had a baby on Monday.” I’ll never forget how her mouth dropped open. Guess she wasn’t expecting that response.

The next day though I stressed and stressed how I would make it to the funeral. It was 30-35 minutes away. Ella breastfed like every two hours (at least) for a up to an hour at a time. I don’t think she had formula at that point. I don’t think I had ever used a breastpump. And I was far from comfortable breastfeeding in public. By myself for that matter. Also they say don’t take newborns out into the public until they’re one month old because their immune systems aren’t strong. And I was going to go somewhere with about 200 people – there was bound to be some sicknesses floating around.

Long story not so short, I didn’t go. I really wish I could have supported my family and heard the stories people told. People have a lot of material to cover when it comes to my grandpa. And the procession went right past their farm. Sounds like it was a good sendoff for my grandpa.

Anyway, I was glad to be at Greg’s funeral this weekend and support my friend. I think my grandpa would have been proud.