Catching up from this past week

This week was such a tumbled-up lack-of-routine week, that my little anal-retentive mind is still sorting through it all, organizing, putting this in this little niche, that in that little pigeon-hole. Sorting, organizing, clearing things away . . . trying to clear my mind.

S and I went to Joanne's father's funeral in Buffalo this Thursday. We rode with Jeanne and Kevin, through Sarnia and Hamilton and Niagara-on-the-Lake. We hit a couple of the duty-free stores on the way there, buying a liter of Stoli for $9.99 US dollars.

Joanne met us in black clothes, coming from the afternoon visitation and readying herself for the evening one. We hugged each other, kissed each other, expressed our sympathies to Joanne, watching her face for clues as to how she was doing. She looked tired and worn, but she could smile and laugh at our liquor-smuggling antics.

We freshened up in our hotel rooms, changed our clothes and caravaned to the funeral home. We greeted her mother, who I believe all had met previously, and her three brothers, who we had not.

Evidently there is a long-standing feud between several family members which Joanne is aware of and has tried to mediate, to no avail. She shared some of the dynamics with us and asked us to observe. Intra-family feuds are painful to watch and appear to be very destructive. So much energy appears to go into "staying mad."

The funeral was late Thursday morning and was held at the funeral home, as Joanne's dad was not a religious man. Three of the four siblings got up and spoke about their father, something that many of us said we wouldn't have the strength to do. Joanne spoke sweetly of her dad, his passion for politics and his love of sports. She read from Johannes Kepler, Thomas Paine and Kahlil Gibran. She did well.

We caravaned to the cemetery, where there were several military men awaiting us. One, a bugler, played taps . . . long and slowly, a mute in the bugle. It was moving. The other two folded the large American flag that draped his coffin, in their slow, ritualized way.

We ate a buffet lunch at a small golf course nearby which gave everyone a chance to visit and share stories.

We left Joanne's mother's house by five and headed back home. We got back to J and J's by eleven. Cisco was a happy pooch when she heard us pull into the driveway.