A Young 24
In the course of the week, I have gained a lot of experience in the ways of standard family gatherings. I am 24 years old and before last weekend I had only been to a single wedding in my lifetime. And although I have been to two memorial services for people who died, I have never been to a real funeral before today. This week I got to go to my first real funeral.
My step-grandfather died on Tuesday night and his ashes were buried in a graveside service today. For many reasons, I hadn’t really thought much about the whole death/funeral thing until this morning and I didn’t think for a second that I wasn’t prepared for the service. I have never claimed to be a real tough guy even though sometimes I come off like a guy with a really thick skin.
It was just something about watching my almost blind grandmother placing flowers over fresh dirt after being presented with a military flag that had me tearing up slightly. Sadly, it wasn’t necessarily my step-grandfather’s death that made me emotional, but the thoughts started creeping in on me. My overactive brain started rushing and I started thinking that some of my grandmother’s pain was representative of the fact that this is the second time in her life that she has had to bury her husband.
That travels to a place where I regret never having a chance to meet my real grandfather, who died before I was born. I have always heard about what a magical personality he had and how he would actually be the life of the party when he walked into a room. He was a cool customer with a quick wit that people were happy to see. I know it seems a little selfish, but I started thinking if my life would have been any different had I grown up knowing this man. Would he have influenced me? Would I have been any different?
Anyway, I think these are all normal thoughts; it is just amazing that I haven’t had to deal with any of these thoughts before the age of 24.
