High in the Sky

I'm posting this while high in the sky on my way to a funeral.

"How does she do it?  She's amazing!" you say.

Well yes, but no, you know, I'm using some of the new blogger tools.  I can write posts and schedule their posting time.  For instance, I'm writing this at 2:17pm Thursday.  (Both girls sleeping beautifully...feels good.)  And you are reading it on Friday morning.  Isn't technology grand?

"That's neat, Emily, but not very interesting.  I think I might click off this post now."  you think.

I understand, feel free to go because what's to follow isn't really that interesting at all.  Just some of my thoughts.

Today (Thursday), I'm preparing for my crazy quick trip to Tom's funeral.  (For those who missed it, my dear friend Tom died.  I'm going to say good bye to him and give his dear twin brother Charles a hug.)  And I'm upstairs trying on clothes.  What do I wear to a funeral?

I haven't been to a funeral in a long time.  My three most significant funerals have been my uncle and grandparents.  I remember them to varying degrees.  But one detail that is clear as day is the people who came to the funerals who didn't even know the deceased.  My high school friends, my dad's business partner, and a variety of others who were there to support us.  To support me.  Seeing them made me cry.

I remember the day my grandfather died.  I was the first to know in my immediate family.   I had spent the night out and walked home the next morning.  I forgot my key and no one was home, so I sat on my back porch until someone arrived to let me in.  The phone rang inside and I leaned into the back door to hear the message on the machine.

It was my aunt.  Calling to tell us Granddad died.  It felt weird knowing before my dad knew.  I sat alone with that information not knowing what to do.  I think I probably prayed.

My mom and brother (I think) soon returned home and I told them what the message said.  It was weird and sad to say it out loud.

I went to school the next week and my lovely Calculus teacher pulled me aside.  He read the obituaries that weekend and asked if Bailey was a relative of mine.  "Yes," I said.  And he offered his deepest condolences right there in the crowded hallway.  I began to tear up.  I was so touched by his gesture.  He didn't know my grandfather but he reached out to me and my sorrow.  It meant the world.

I don't feel comfortable in serious situations.  I don't speak eloquently in front of a crowd and often get too emotional to say anything at all.  But I'm going to try to move past my awkwardness and just be there for the family, with the family.  To show my support and love by my presence.

And what am I going to wear?  I'll find something discreet.  And that still fits.  I guess that doesn't really matter any more.