There's about a zillion and three things that I should be doing... instead I'm prepping pages for some new wee books. They look rather pretty, hanging by colour, in my studio window. At least I've been productive.
I'm feeling sort of blah. Not quite maudlin, certainly not depressed, just blah today.
We drove to the big city for a memorial service this past weekend. A family friend passed away the other week. He was a nice man who bought plenty of rounds at the pub, danced with me at my wedding, argued with me about which was better Holiday Inn or White Christmas. He worked until the day he died at age 77.
I won't lie, I wasn't extremely close to the man, but he meant enough to make the 3 hour drive.
It was pretty clear that he wasn't close to his 5 children. They felt that he was distant. His affections were not demonstrative. The term "estranged" was used by one of his sons.
I can understand their sticky position. My own father hasn't spoken to me in years. It's been over 20 years since I've actually seen him face to face. If I were asked to speak at my fathers funeral, I'd politely decline. I don't know my father, he doesn't know me. He has chosen to not be a part of my life. I may not agree with his choice, but I accept it and carry on.
Honestly, I don't even know why I'm sharing all this. I suppose when someone passes you can't help but think about your life and the people in it. I'm definitely not the huggy kissy type. I admit to living more in my head than in the real world. I sure as hell hope that the people in my life know that I care about them anyway... even if I don't want to kiss them :)
Gah! When I'm dead tell my loved ones not to even bother with a service. Just have a pint and spare a thought or two about something funny we shared. Much better than uncomfortable ceremonies, tears, and bad music.