I am home.
It was a bittersweet weekend: I went to Spokane, which I haven’t seen since perhaps the late 70s. As I flew away from the place, I had the sensation one gets when you realize you will never see it again. There is no reason now, for Uncle is dead. At his eulogy I saw people and relations whom I haven’t seen in decades. I head many stories, some I did not know (my favorite: every night Uncle Ed called the families of his patients who were in hospital to give them updates on their loved ones).
Funerals make me thoughtful. They make me reflect on Time, Death, and what the heck am I doing with my life anyway. Father was understandably sorrowful at his brother’s funeral. I sensed he was thinking ‘I’m next’. I saw shades of this in his countenance.
On the positive, it was jolly good fun to have two long tables of Spos all talking and bouncing off of each other after the solemnities. I am fortunate to have a large and loving family. We are all squirrels and space-ghosts who blurt over each other’s conversations but it is all loving. In one of the many reminisces I was floored to hear Uncle Ed and I had the nickname “Doc Roc”, spontaneously created on different coasts and in different generations. What an honor to have shared the same nickname, and it lives on with me.
I feel changed somehow, although I haven’t quite analyzed in what ways. I’m too tired to figure it out. I need to go to bed and get back to normalcy. Yet if I have changed somehow, ‘the norm’ can’t be what it was, can it?
I am going to unpack and crawl into my own bed with my dog, whom I missed mightily.
I look forward to catching up this week on my blogs.
See you soon.


17 comments
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January 6, 2013 at 8:07 PM
anne marie in philly
{{{{{hugs}}}}}
January 6, 2013 at 8:29 PM
Kelly Stern
very sorry for your loss.. but glad you were able to see family and learn even more from your family… sleep tight!
January 6, 2013 at 9:43 PM
Jay
You Roc Doc! I understand how your father feels. My mother has one sister left. I can remember the night my grandmother died her hugging me and saying that she would probably be the last one to survive and that has proved true. It will be hard when she goes.
January 6, 2013 at 11:32 PM
Raybeard
Yes, every loss shifts the dynamics of one’s life. As you recognise, even if it’s all on the inside, you know that something has moved, the previous position never to return. Hope you can extract something to keep and cherish from having undergone this sad experience.
January 7, 2013 at 12:04 AM
Rick
How can we avoid thinking of our own mortality when attending funerals?
It was kind and thoughtful of you to go the distance for such a sad occassion. I’m ashamed to say that I rarely travel to funerals. I didn’t go to my paternal grandmothers’ because I wanted to go to a college football game instead some 25 years ago. My track record has not improved for I haven’t gone to aunts or uncles funerals either this last decade. I’m not sure why?
I’m glad you’re home safe with Harper.
January 7, 2013 at 5:28 AM
William Fregosi
It’s good you went to Spokane, but then again you’re a good man. You’ve got a much larger family than I, and it seems you’re much closer to each other than mine. Your father may be a bit fragile for a while but I’m sure you’ll be there for him.
January 7, 2013 at 6:25 AM
Ron
At Uncle Ed Tipton’s funeral service my Uncle Sam, who was sitting next to my father ( I was on the other side of my father) and tapped him on the knee and said “You’re next Ike.” This made my father angry but you know what? He was next. Then after he died my Uncle Sam died. Sometimes these things are known.
January 7, 2013 at 6:28 AM
Ron
You said that you felt changed somehow. You are changed after losing a loved one like this. I felt the same way when my father died. Then when my mother died I felt it more profoundly. I felt like part of me had died also. As my 66 year old brother John said at the time our Mother died in 2010, “Ronnie, we’re now orphans.” And indeed, we were.
January 7, 2013 at 6:57 AM
domanidave
Prompted by who-knows-what over the holidays, I reflected on the fact that when my surviving brother and I are gone, no one will care about, or ever visit the family cemetery in our home town again. The greater family is so far-flung, and in the times we live in, sentimental natures are a rare commodity. Sobering. Thinking of you.
January 7, 2013 at 7:11 AM
RuralBeard
I very much understand what you’re feeling. My Dad died 2 months ago. At the funeral, I too met up with relations I too hadn’t seen in many years; me being far away now for over 20 years. My father’s twin brother touched me in a way that I haven’t felt before. My Uncle has 5 girls and after the funeral, he said that he’d be proud to call me son. Funerals and our loved ones’ passing are marked with moments of sadness and moments which may change our perspective on life – and possibly, on death. Your ‘post’ is most appropriate inasmuch as it was the day of epiphany. Hugs from Here.
January 7, 2013 at 3:40 PM
Cubby
Please don’t take this in a bad way. It’s not meant to be. When you said there were two tables full of Spos talking and bouncing off each other, it reminded me of that scene in the move “The Aviator” where Kate Hepburn takes Howard Hughes home to meet her family and they are all around the table talking at once carrying on 8 conversations. I would have felt like Howard. How did you feel at the table? Like Howard (invisible) or like Kate (took part in it and faked enjoying the craziness) or like the rest of the Hepburn clan?
January 7, 2013 at 5:00 PM
Stan
It was a stark reality check for me when both my parents, all my aunts and uncles were gone and I started attending the funerals of my first cousins. I’m sorry for your loss.
January 7, 2013 at 5:48 PM
Sean R
I’m so sorry for your loss.
January 7, 2013 at 6:16 PM
Mark in DE
Glad you were able to attend the funeral, and I look forward to reading more about how the trip changed you.
January 7, 2013 at 9:38 PM
Topher
Glad you attended the funeral back home. They’re always bittersweet, a time to be with the family to mourn over a loved one, and at the same time, an opportunity to see our loved ones once again.
I know what that’s like: to feel changed, yet feel the same. Hugsss
January 9, 2013 at 12:11 PM
Nik_TheGreek
I’m very sorry for your loss.
January 15, 2013 at 11:58 PM
Erik Rubright
Belated hugs to you on your loss.