My dad asked me to proofread the eulogy. This part really got me.
In many ways, my father’s world came to an end in 1982 when our mother passed away. He quit teaching and largely withdrew. Politics became his new passion and he loved bantering at the Bagel Barrel. For over 30 years my Dad would write to me at least once a week, often railing against one political wrong or another. No matter where I was in the world;Italy, Panama, or the Middle East, my Dad’s letters were a comforting constant, which I will miss.
My grandpap waited thirty years, all the while still madly in love with my grandmother. I’m not the most religious person in the world, but I truly believe that somewhere, somehow they’re finally reunited. <3
My grandpap died suddenly of a heart attack today.
He was a month and a half shy of turning eighty-five, my lucky number and personal [age] life goal.
My grandfather is dead.
I have so much emotion welling up beneath my skin and nothing is finding its way to my mouth.
I think Bill Cosby should be buried in jello. Of course he’ll be paid in advance so as to enjoy the…ahem…advance.
Letter writing and sandwich eating at 5am.
That always reminds me of Dead Poets’ Society. And Dead Poets’ Society always makes me cry.
An excerpt from Wikipedia:
Justin was a no-show today. Justin = dead. Apparently.
A girl at work wrote the bit about the dry erase markers, and I felt the need to add to it. :)