[This was written last night around 5a while I was waiting for Charlie's plane to come in. Please excuse any spelling and gramar errors, I'm still pretty tired.]
The other day I asked charlie if she ever thought about what she would say at a funeral for people who were still alive. She said she never really thinks about it and when she asked me if I do, she had a really surprised tone to her voice. Thinking about what I'd say at peoples funerals is a topic my idol mind often drifts to, I'm not sure when it really started but I think it was around the time I went to the funeral of my friends mother up in Midland. Looking back now I can't say that I remember too much but I vividly remember Matt (my friend who’s mother passed away,) walking into the room caring his mothers urn and bawling his fucking eyes out. I knew he loved his mom, I knew she was dead but I didn’t really know those things until that moment.
His mom was dead.
Sometimes what seems to be a nice thing to say about someone who's still alive will pop into my head and I'll think, "hey, I should write this down for later." I’m not sure if writing it down is a good idea though. It kinda makes me feel like I’m planning something good to say for whoever the thought was about and that very feeling leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I mean, who else thinks about these things? Who plans a eulogy before someone dies?
For the last two years its always felt to me like my grandfathers time is almost up and I’m always worring about how things will change after he’s gone. Some of my oldest and fondest memories are of him and the thought of those new memories stopping is deeply troubling to me. (Even if it is a memory of him asking my girlfriend if she’s going to blow me later on. Good god, lol.)
Right after my grandad had his big stroke and was staying at home in pickering I was sure that he was going to die any day. I wasn’t really worried about the manner of his passing, I was just worried that he wouldn’t be around for family dinner on Sunday. Sometimes I really miss Sunday dinners, infact, its the number one thing I miss about living at home. I miss the amazing food, I miss drinking all of mom’s grandmarner, I miss Ashley taking a bullet for the rest of us and doing the dishes way more often than I would. I love Charlie and Josh, but there was a long time when it was just the six of us for Sunday dinner and those nights were just the best. It was just me and my family every Sunday and at the time there wasn’t anywhere else I’d rather have been.
Back to what I was saying before, I guess its kind of a good idea to think about what you want to say at someones funeral because you can tell them while their still alive. If you know me you’ll know that I’m a firm believer of the lack of life after death, so with that in mind it makes sence to get going while the goings good. After my grandad’s stroke I tried creeping past him late one night after the pub. He was sleeping on the pull-out on the main floor and dispite his inability to hear the TV at level that doesn’t nearly shatter glass back unto its elementary particles, he heard me creep in the front door. I decided that that time was as good as any to tell him how I felt, I told him that if at the end of my life I could look back on all the things I had done and be half the grandfather that he was, I’ll have known that I had made all the right decisions in life. It was an emotional moment indeed.
Ever since then I’ve been trying to tell people how I really feel, so if you’re reading this, chances are I love you.
[Currently listening to John Prine, In Spite of Ourselves.]
