I'm home from the funeral weekend for my uncle.
I'm exhausted. It was a lot of driving, and most of it in unfamiliar areas, on top of lots of emotions. It went as well as it could, but I still feel like I've been hit by a truck.
At least there was no literal hitting of anything, including when I was following the hearse and thinking how absolutely awful rear-ending it would be. I didn't, nor did I hit anything else, nor did anything else hit me.
My mother's on her way back home.
My brother's in NY, cleaning out the apartment.
The one that my grandfather, aunt, and uncle moved into in 1960.
You can imagine. Or maybe you can't, and that's okay.
I mostly knit, sometimes crochet or cross-stitch. I read, a lot. I love cats. I love hockey, especially my no-longer-local team, the Boston Bruins. Want more? Read on.
I am so sorry. Cyber hugs.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you and your mother had safe travels.
ReplyDeleteMy heart is going out to your brother, charged with cleaning out 56 years of living. I hope your uncle had done some of it years earlier.
<3
ReplyDeleteWe're right down the street if you need anything.