So if you read my previous post you saw that my Grandma Lou passed away last week. It's been a tough one for me. I go about my daily routine and the thought will cross my mind I should go say Hi to grandma today and clean the house, then it hits me.
I'm happy for her. She lived 95 fantastic years.
Yesterday was her funeral. We laughed (I will get to that in a minute), we cried, and I said one final toodle-loodle-loo. I will see her again and I know that. I am grateful I know that.
So back to the laughing part. It's a funeral. You shouldn't laugh, right?
We gathered all the family in the room for the family prayer but before that the funeral director asked all of the little kids (great grands) to come up to the casket. They had their backs to all the adults in the room. Grif is one of the bigger kids so he was in the back which basically means all of the adults could see him. The funeral director was talking to them about death and how her spirit isn't in her body anymore. The room was silent and reverent and perfect, until Baylor decided to walk over to Grif and give him a big old smack on the butt.
Numerous adults had to stifle a laugh. I just put my head down and tried to pretend the entire room wasn't staring at me. I could feel my face turn many shades of red.
I've said it a thousand times before and I'm sure I'll say it a couple thousand more....why is it ALWAYS my kid?
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