In college Grandpa had given me some sheet music ("In This Very Room") and asked me to sing that song when he died. The last few years every time he saw me, he reminded me of that request. So Tuesday afternoon I flew out to Utah and Wednesday was the funeral and early Thursday morning I flew back. I would have liked to stay longer, but Kip and the kids wanted me home (which is nice to know, although I still really really regret not extending my stay a little bit to see my brother Jake).
The funeral was very nice. Grandpa's life was very well lived. Looking around there were family members with happy, functional, good lives and I couldn't help but think about what a legacy Grandpa had left for us. His living children were all there and the cousins made a good showing too. I was the only one from our family, which made me a little nervous, but the nice thing about it was that because of this I couldn't hang out in my comfort zone with my siblings, but I had to mingle and family-hop. This turned out to be really nice. I feel like I got to know everyone a little better than I otherwise would have and to catch up. I wish I'd gotten more phone numbers/addresses and will try to fix that by pumping Grandma for information.
When I got home, I was beat. Honestly, how do business people do it flying around the world. I couldn't handle one small time zone. Here's a picture of me zonked out on the couch the next day while Emma fends for herself.
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