Word of the Day: eclectic We made a whirlwind trip to Louisiana, leaving for New Iberia Wednesday afternoon and arriving back in Victoria Thursday night. It was interesting, to say the least. My grandmother's visitation [aka get-together] was in the same parlor that my Aunt Tammy's was in seven months ago with many of the same people in attendance. My mother was overly-excited that we came [she didn't think we were going to] and started introducing me to people I don't remember but who seem to remember me when I was thisbig, her aunts and uncles and cousins and whatjamacallits. One very special thing, however, was that, for the first time in I don't know how many many many years, all eight of my grandparents' children were in the same room. They were all there, even Uncle Byron [who looked a lot like a philosophy professor, both JD and I agreed upon] drove from Florida. Everyone got to meet Patrick and, surprisingly, my father was receptive. I don't know if that's because he's genuinely turning around or if he was being nice to us because there were people around [which he has a habit of doing]. I suppose we'll see when they get home and I talk to my mother again. It was really nice to be able to see my family and indroduce them all to my new family, to JD and Patrick. My one wish was that my grandmother was able to meet little Patrick. I know she wanted to so badly, even my grandad said she did. But what happened happened, and I'm sure that, whatever happened to my grandmother's spirit, she's seen Patrick. So there was the morning visitation, the funeral mass, and then the dinner. My grandad surely has enough food to hold him over until he can either learn to cook or start to like microwaved food. Because, you know, that's partly why there's a meal after the funeral, espeically if the deceased is a woman--to have some food for the family for a little while while they get things together again. Any road, like I said, things went well, I got to see all my uncles and my aunt, the food was excellent [especially that one bowl of potato salad...fabulous]. And we all said goodbye. I kind of didn't want this entry to turn into a general what I think about death entry, but I believe that's where my mind is going. This has been the closest person to me to have died so far in my life. I was close to my grandmother. I didn't get to see her that often, but I was close to her. My mother always made sure to keep my grandparents up to date on my doings and happenings and things, and I always loved to go to Louisiana to visit them and hang out with my grandmother. I believe I was her favorite grandchild. She was definitely my favorite grandmother [and would still be even if my father's mother hadn't have died when she did]. But it's not like her death was wholly unexpected to me, and probably to anyone. She wasn't old by today's standards, she wasn't ninety or anything. She was heading towards eighty, I think. But she had diabetes, she had had a stroke when I was still in high school [but recovered well], she only had one kidney and was supposed to have been on dialysis except that she changed her diet and was improving greatly on that front. She recently got shingles. She was never really healthy, but she got along fine with what she had. She never had any mental or memory problems, thank goodness for that, other than not being able to get names straight [I was usually one of my cousins a couple of times before I was Ashley]. Anyroad, no, her death was not unexpected. I knew on Tuesday, when I saw that someone calling from my grandparent's house left me a message, that one of them had died, and I knew in my heart it was my grandmother. I could say that, because her death was partly expected, I was partly prepared. Rarely, at her visitation or funeral, did I cry other than because I was seeing my mother cry. That brings me to wonder about a totally unexpceted death, if I would be more emotional because I were less prepared. From experience, I don't think I would be unless it were either my parents or JD or Patrick. I remember when Steffany died, I was sad and appalled [because of the circumstances in which she died], but I wasn't overwhelmed with sadness or too terribly hurt. I felt a little more creeped out than in pain, and I felt really bad for her parents. She was a friend, but not a close friend. She was someone to talk to, but not anyone I would have sought out to confide in or bs with. It would have been more painful for me if JD would have died after falling out of that tree [which, strangely enough, happened in the same week we were told that Steffany had been murdered] because I was closer to him than I was to her. However, more than me being in pain for his passing, I'd have felt for Aaron for losing his best friend and for Amanda for losing her love. So, it seems to me that I have a rather healthy, if there is such a thing, view on death. I feel badly for the person who died, weather it was sort of expected or not, weather they were young or old, but I feel more for the people they leave. In this situation with my grandmother, I feel the most for my grandad. I never could picture how it would be like for him to live by himself without my grandmother to love, to cook for him, wash, take care of him in general, and I don't know if he ever though about it, either. I'm sure he never wanted to.