If you read this bloggity-blog of mine, you may have caught on to something: I am weird. I am the product of two very very strange families and I am very lucky that I turned out the way I did, which is moderately normal. Yeah, I know.
Something else you may have picked up (I'm not sure if I mentioned it or not) is that I am Irish Catholic. The Irish part may not seem significant now, but just wait. So a stereotype most people know about irish people (other than the drinking) is that they really like wakes and funerals. I don't know why. But it's hereditary. Now comes in the catholic. In my town, wakes are the time when you see people you haven't seen in years. And funerals are not a "celebration of life" they are a time for a final blessing of the body before burial. They're more for the living, though. (I am not a Theologian. I'm just a girl whose family likes death.)
So what brought this on, you ask? Well, 10 years ago today my grandfather died. I didn't just want to make a depressing blog post all about my dead grandfather who I miss more than anything so therefore this post was born.
So you learned something knew and I wasted five minutes of your day. The usual here on my blog. You learned something that will do nothing to help you other than to stay away from the funeral home in Rockaway. Well that is helpful.
Bye Internet.
Books read:8
Journeys:6
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