Well alrighty then, I am here. I have been in what a dear friend of mine calls a “major blue funk.” I have been spending time on the computer but I read my email and play a bit then get off and go hibernate in my wonderful recliner with a book and enjoy the goings on of my beautiful daughters while snuggling with my dog. Sad but true, sometimes I just have to step back for a bit.

A man I worked with for almost 5 years died on Sunday…of cancer. Multiple Myeloma. He fought valiantly for 4 of the years I knew him. He had two bone marrow transplants and tons of chemo and all the other hoo-ha that goes with cancer treatment. He won enough time to welcome is lovely granddaughter, Kate, into the world last September. He would show us the latest pictures of her every time he came to visit us in the office. His smile was absolutely glowing when he spoke of her. Baby Kate is only 9 months old now. Her grampa has passed on and she will only learn of him through pictures and stories now.

To say that Ron’s death has triggered some “stuff” for me would be putting it mildly. I just keep thinking of his wife, Rita, and how difficult this has got to be for her. I keep remembering the morning my dad died and how my mom just looked up from her tears and said “It doesn’t seem right. Life is just going on… without him.” Rita and her family have opted for a very private service and none of Ron’s work friends will be able to formally say their goodbyes to him. I understand, I think, why they have chosen this. It doesn’t make it any easier though.

My mother chose to bury my dad on my grandfather’s grave. When my grandfather died 16 years ago, he was buried six feet under in the best casket his obnoxious wife could afford. (It is very clear that I still have some feelings about her eh?) My dad was buried in an urn…18 inches below the surface. My mom will rest over the top of my grandmother’s grave, again, 18 inches below the surface. Before my dad died, I didn’t even know this was possible. I mean, imagine how many times you could use a burial plot in this manner. Most of the people in my family could be buried in this same spot. Amazing. Odd. Mom, however, wants to be with her mama and I understand that. She wanted my dad to be with her too. Ok, I get it, sort of.

I have a problem with this however because my grandfather was a child molester. He began with my aunt who is now 62 years old and he kept up with his proclivities through my childhood at least. I was 6 months old when he started with me and it went on for years. When I was 24 and pregnant with my second child, he was still inappropriate. Ok, this is another story entirely so back on track…to visit my dad’s grave, I now have to visit my grandfather’s. I didn’t realize how much this would bother me until Father’s Day when I just couldn’t go there and then this past week when my therapist and I were talking about it all. After these “revelations”, for lack of a better word, I had a dream about my dad. The first one since he died. He built me a motorcycle. What that means, I’m not sure however, there is something there. It will come to me when the time is right I know.

It’s interesting to me how life just keeps going. People die, babies are born. We make good choices and bad. There are obvious consequences and ones not so obvious. We all get different things out of what happens daily. It can be a learning experience or we can choose to stagnate. We can choose to see the beauty of it all or not. Even in the midst of a “major blue funk”, I am grateful to be here. Peace.


3 responses to this post.

  1. Hugs to you Traci! (((((((((Traci)))))))) I hope you are feeling less blue soon..but sometimes we do just need to “feel blue” and let it be..


  2. The good thing about it is that you don’t have to visit his ashes to visit with your father. He’s not there in that grave, not the part of him that makes him your dad. He’s in you, he’s in your children… just lift your voice and say “Hi Dad. I love you and I miss you.” He’ll hear it, no matter where you are.

    I’m sorry that your friend lost his battle…or maybe he won because he got to meet Kate in person, I don’t know. But it’s the same thing. You don’t have to be with his body to say goodbye and honor his memory. He knows.

    I hope the major blue lifts for you soon.


  3. Well I cried and only read part of your blog. But I also said to myself “You go girl”. What you have done with your life was beyond difficult. I don’t know about abuse…thank God….but I have a sister who is a Psychiatrist and that is an area where she has focused. I am in awe that you had what it takes to say no more. As I am certain you know many women can’t say no.

    You should be so proud of you!!!
    And I must tell you I love that
    word FUNK…we use that word all the time…

    The ugly comment I removed was in reference to me being a Jew…And it was pretty bad…So bad….one
    of my sister’s read it….hopped in her car drove up yesterday to the hospital to tell me in person.
    She knew I would freak…..

    Any old way….that was yesterday
    and today is a new day…and heck
    we are all alive…so life is good.



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