My grandpap and me at Pemaquid Point, 2007.
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
Lame. I’ll be off for a week starting tomorrow, but only because I have to go to Philadelphia for a funeral.
This past summer my family went to the James A. Michener Art Museum in Doylestown, PA (where my dad grew up). They had a cool exhibit with costumes from classic Hollywood films. The children’s portion of the exhibit had costumes. We, grown all grown-ups, decided to play around.
My grandpap is the Cowardly Lion. <3
My whole family believes that my grandmother came back as a butterfly. Because of this, I always feel an overwhelming warmth when I see one. I wish that butterfly tattoos weren’t so cliche and potentially trashy. Alas…
-Some guy on OKcupid
WHAT THE FUCK!?
This morning I found my grandma’s rain cap buried deep in the glove compartment of her old car. She died in 2006 of lung cancer. I put it on in jest, but as soon as it was unfurled I got a huge whiff of her smell. Instant memory flashback! I started bawling like a lunatic. Oh, Catharine Contrucci… How I miss thee. :(