My family is still not normal...as if we have ever been truly normal. For the past week or so since the funeral we have not spoken and have said things that have hurt. Those hurts have not completely healed even though there are miscellaneous apologies that are floating around. The apologies have been made through others and not directly to the person that should receive it. We are not good at apologizing. It's sad. At a time when we should be hold each other up, we have been breaking into teams. But, keep in mind, I am dealing with a close knit group that has had reason these last few months to unravel.
I talked to my mom at length last night. She asked me why I was still mad and I told her that, ironically, on my frequent sleepless nights of late while I watch repeats of The Andy Griffth Show and I Love Lucy, I had thought about just that. I think I am most upset over the fact that with all the whooping and hollering about sentimental items, no one has taken anything sentimental.
Most folk don't know it, but I am a really sentimental person. I love to take pictures and I have pictures of every thing and almost every place I have been. I have tons of pictures of the children in my class, the places I've been, friends and family. This weekend I will be helping a friend welcome her new child in the world. I will probably take pictures. I have keepsakes of places I have been, too. Small things that people don't even know I have. For example, in one of my purses I have the cork from the bottle of wine I drank one night when Hubby told me he loves me more than the world. I am sentimental like that.
However, my Aunts, Uncle and Mommie continued to talk about needing to have something sentimental. My Aunt stormed out of the house and into my grandfathers car. She drove off like the proverbial bat out of hell, crying that she needed something of Daddy's. I understood that...or so I thought. I mean, let's face it, until this year they all had both of their parents, could return to their childhood home, spend holidays around the same table that they sat around for all of their lives. Their children got to experience those holidays the same as they did when they were younger. They could share stories and actually have witness to prove that my uncle did feed the horse collared greens and that was the reason it died. The house held so many memories and in less than a year...now it is all gone.
I talked to my mom at length last night. She asked me why I was still mad and I told her that, ironically, on my frequent sleepless nights of late while I watch repeats of The Andy Griffth Show and I Love Lucy, I had thought about just that. I think I am most upset over the fact that with all the whooping and hollering about sentimental items, no one has taken anything sentimental.
Most folk don't know it, but I am a really sentimental person. I love to take pictures and I have pictures of every thing and almost every place I have been. I have tons of pictures of the children in my class, the places I've been, friends and family. This weekend I will be helping a friend welcome her new child in the world. I will probably take pictures. I have keepsakes of places I have been, too. Small things that people don't even know I have. For example, in one of my purses I have the cork from the bottle of wine I drank one night when Hubby told me he loves me more than the world. I am sentimental like that.
However, my Aunts, Uncle and Mommie continued to talk about needing to have something sentimental. My Aunt stormed out of the house and into my grandfathers car. She drove off like the proverbial bat out of hell, crying that she needed something of Daddy's. I understood that...or so I thought. I mean, let's face it, until this year they all had both of their parents, could return to their childhood home, spend holidays around the same table that they sat around for all of their lives. Their children got to experience those holidays the same as they did when they were younger. They could share stories and actually have witness to prove that my uncle did feed the horse collared greens and that was the reason it died. The house held so many memories and in less than a year...now it is all gone.
I can understand that...at least I thought.
After everyone and returned to their homes, I went back to the house like a good little executrix I am and inventoried the house. As I walked through, I became angry. I mean, I know one man's sentiment is another man's junk. But some things, I think, are universally sentimental. For example:
My grandfather was an avid photographer. For years, people asked him to photograph wedding and parties. He has our whole history in albums. They are all still there. So are his cameras and videos. He was a sharp dresser, all his clothes are still there. The picture of him that we used for the funeral..still on the table. Our family tree is still hanging on the wall.
I took some things from the house. Things that may not even be missed until someone reads this post. I took a blanket. It was fairly new, but I had seen my grandmother sit on the corner of the sofa and do crossword puzzles with it over her legs. She was ALWAYS cold. My nephew took on of granddaddy's hats and I took one of his caps. He was always a snappy dresser and I am sure that I will be reminded of that each time I wear it.
My being sentimental helped me learn things. What amazed me was I never knew Granddaddy was sentimental, too. On his dresser was a bible. In the bible was the birthdays and anniversaries of most of our family. There was also the newspaper announcement of my wedding. I did not even know that it made it to the paper on time. After leafing through the pages I found the my grandmother's obituary. I could only imagine how he must have felt to clip that, and place it in the book. My grandfather was in the army, and in true military style, they played Taps at the funeral. The solders dutifully folded the flag and gave it to my mother. All of these things are at my home now.
So I question my family and their definition of what is sentimental. And I really hope not to find that all that is sentimental to them is monetary.
Until then, I will sit on the sofa, reading my book, with my grandmother's blanket over my legs. I'm sentimental like that.
After everyone and returned to their homes, I went back to the house like a good little executrix I am and inventoried the house. As I walked through, I became angry. I mean, I know one man's sentiment is another man's junk. But some things, I think, are universally sentimental. For example:
My grandfather was an avid photographer. For years, people asked him to photograph wedding and parties. He has our whole history in albums. They are all still there. So are his cameras and videos. He was a sharp dresser, all his clothes are still there. The picture of him that we used for the funeral..still on the table. Our family tree is still hanging on the wall.
I took some things from the house. Things that may not even be missed until someone reads this post. I took a blanket. It was fairly new, but I had seen my grandmother sit on the corner of the sofa and do crossword puzzles with it over her legs. She was ALWAYS cold. My nephew took on of granddaddy's hats and I took one of his caps. He was always a snappy dresser and I am sure that I will be reminded of that each time I wear it.
My being sentimental helped me learn things. What amazed me was I never knew Granddaddy was sentimental, too. On his dresser was a bible. In the bible was the birthdays and anniversaries of most of our family. There was also the newspaper announcement of my wedding. I did not even know that it made it to the paper on time. After leafing through the pages I found the my grandmother's obituary. I could only imagine how he must have felt to clip that, and place it in the book. My grandfather was in the army, and in true military style, they played Taps at the funeral. The solders dutifully folded the flag and gave it to my mother. All of these things are at my home now.
So I question my family and their definition of what is sentimental. And I really hope not to find that all that is sentimental to them is monetary.
Until then, I will sit on the sofa, reading my book, with my grandmother's blanket over my legs. I'm sentimental like that.
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