A Rock and a Hard Place

As promised, sometimes the hard times in life are a hill or a headwind, and sometimes the death of a relative.  

My grandpa died today.  He was an old cowboy.  He farmed. He hauled dirt.  He did just about everything.  For about the last 25 years, he has been raising longhorns for show.  He trained them to pull buggies, to be in commercials, and just to ride around if you felt like it.

He was always my favorite of the grandparents, though I don’t really know why.  I hardly knew him when it comes down to it.  I would see him at most once a year.  He was always a lot of fun, but I know nothing of his character.   Do you really know someone that you have only had some laughs with?  I’m not sure.  Why does it all matter? Not sure of that either, but there is a rub here.  

You see, one of our very best friends is getting married this weekend.  My wife and daughter are both in the wedding. It has always seemed to me that family means much more than blood.  Maybe my view is skewed from my childhood, but given the choice between the two, I take the friend.  Is that wrong?  

They could have the funeral for Thursday, but one of my aunt’s husbands can’t travel until Friday at the earliest.  So they must chose to schedule the funeral around him or around me, knowing that I will be traveling to the wedding on friday.  Does their choice of the son-in-law over the grandson let me off the hook?  Am I on a hook to begin with?  

I am not so much worried about the opinions of the family, so much as being there for my dad.  My presence won’t really mean anything to anybody as we seem to be the “other” grandchildren in the family.  But my absence will surely be discussed.  I am planning on spending the next couple of days there, does that make up for missing the actual funeral?  Should I have to make up for it?    This may all be premature, as the funeral could very well be scheduled for Thursday.  But the struggle within exists either way.


~ by Velosophy Esq. on March 31, 2009.

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