Baby's First Funeral

A regularly scheduled visit to the old homestead took a weird turn when my paternal grandfather, whom I've mentioned before here, died. He had been on the decline for a while, but none of us were quite prepared. No one ever is, are they? So that's what our visit has revolved around. I'm really glad we were already here.

Gaz, for her part, has been so amazingly good that I am still amazed. She was much-needed comic relief during the long hours of visitation at the funeral home. She and I camped out in the cry room at the church my grandpa founded for the requiem mass. She really was a trooper. She even came into grandpa's room at the nursing home, after he'd been cleaned up but before the funeral home came to pick him up, and just climbed up into a chair next to me and just sat with us for a while before demanding a trip to see the birds in the lounge area. That just blew my mind that she didn't pay anything any mind.

The only problems we've had have been a sudden need to nap in the afternoons to compensate for the very weird hours we've been keeping, and of course, Gaz getting upset when she sees me cry. Poor kid, she had no idea why Mommy was upset. Things are evening out now and we're getting back to the regular fun of visiting Nana Cel and Papa Charley. The ice storm and rain and snow have made outdoor play impossible, but we're doing well indoors.

One bit of silliness, in the spirit of my silly grandpa: Gaz said that Pugly, my parent's chow/shepherd mix, was stinky and that we should "get a new Pugly that's fresher."