My Uncle Emmett revealed this gem of a joke to me at a funeral reception last weekend. And while, jokes at funerals are typically hilarious, this one really made me laugh. My Grandpa Harry, my mother's father, died last week after a tough few months. We were close. He always made me laugh. And had this Santa-like twinkle in his blue eyes even when he lost his ability to speak, somehow able to make me laugh with his smile and facial expressions. I visited him a few days before he went, he could speak, and it seemed as though his spirits were bright again. He was weak, having been diagnosed with terminal cancer just after Thanksgiving. His birthday is coming up. In a week he'd be 85. February 25th.
At the mass this past Saturday I was moved as I heard stories of my grandpa, always working hard, yet never one to turn down a party. So, this joke, really is true.
The difference between our Irish family weddings and his Irish funeral, was simply that he was missing. We were still there celebrating. Only this time it was him we were celebrating.
No comments:
Post a Comment