At the Late Night, Double Feature, Picture Show

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Nope, no Grandparents, Go Fish

Well, my pap died. I know death isn't a funny thing, I'm just trying to make light of the situation so I don't freak out, hence the title. My pap is the last in my official grandparents roster and I have to go to the funeral in the next few days. On top of that, I lost my gram (other side of family), on Christmas. Not exactly the gift I was expecting to unwrap, but in a way a gift none the less. Both of them weren't doing well and were in a lot of pain, apparently I was the last one to have an actual conversation with her and we got to say good-bye a few days later. It was Christmas eve and much of the family went up to visit. At that point she wasn't speaking and was primarily resting between fits of breathing. We went home and 2 hours later got a call that she had passed.

Now it's March and we find out that my pap just passed away. I got to go up and visit about a month ago with my brother, sister and cousin. This one seems to be hitting me harder. Maybe because he was the last grandparent I had, maybe because when we saw him he seemed about as fine as someone whose on oxygen could be. Sure he wasn't doing squat thrusts and dancing a polka, but he was lively as all hell. Cracking jokes and forcing us to eat more, saying things with that certain twinkle in his eye and innuendo that only old men can get away with. He seemed better than he had in months. We said good-bye and that we'd be up to visit again soon. It's a visit I won't get to make.

Now to turn it around. I don't want this to bring people down by reading it or make it into a, "cherish your loved ones while they're around", crusade. We all know what we know, about how we are told to feel and how we really do and what happens in between. The reason I'm putting this out there is because I need to get it off my chest. As I type this though I see that I haven't updated my blog since November. To quote the thespian Keanu Reeves, "Whoa". There are a million little things that I could write about on a daily basis and it brings the death of not one, but two grandparents to get me to do something about it. I can't believe how many times I think, "I should write about this" and do nothing about it because, oh, the same episode of Family Guy that I've seen 40 times is on. That tells me I'm in trouble. That tells me that I'm more interested in the shit somebody else is getting paid for than getting paid myself. I'm not just speaking of getting paid monetarily, but emotionally, (and sexually if we can work that in somehow). Jesus knows I don't care about what anyone has to say more than what I have to say myself. If a bloggers computer battery dies in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Does that metaphor make any fucking sense? Are they really remaking The Karate Kid? These questions and more will be pondered and answered in a semi conscious, sometimes drunken fashion much faster and more often in the near future. I have to take a few days off to go up North to deal with last good-byes, but you can expect a new post soon. Am I back with a vengeance? Only against myself. But sometimes that's enough.