Memories

Today was Opa's memorial Service. Omi held it at the church that she attends. There were a couple of hymns sung and bibles verses read. After the Gospel and meditation, I was called up to give what I understand now to have been his euology. When Omi asked me to speak, I didn't realize that i'd be the only one. I also didn't realize how difficult it would be to read those words in front of so many people. I found myself focusing on the people who matter so much to me - Omi & my parents. It wasn't so much the words that were hard to say. What made it so difficult was Omi's eyes, staring into mine. I wanted her to know how sorry I am for our loss. I made it through my speech, though barely breathing and choking on a lump in my throat.

After the service, a lot of people came up to me and told me what a nice job I'd done. I thanked them, feeling good that I'd been able to share a little bit of what an amazing man he was to me. A number of people also commented on how brave I'd been to do that. I never even thought of it being about bravity. Omi asked me and I couldn't have imagined saying anything other than yes. Opa always complimented me on how well he thought I did with public speaking. I was able to project my voice and he, terribly hard of hearing, even with hearing aids, was able to understand what I was saying. He used to watch the baseball games on tv with the sound muted because all he could hear was noise. But when I spoke, he was able to hear me loud & clear. I feel like my getting up there today would have made him proud. I feel like he would've given me a pat on the shoulder and said 'That was pretty good, Jennifer. You did a nice job.'

Hubby did a great job. He made sure that he was ready on time, we left early and were 30 minutes early at the church. He held my hand and reminded me to breathe. When I finished speaking, and got back to my seat, that's sort of when I lost it. I just held his hand and tried to keep myself from sobbing.

I felt so many things as I sat in that church today. I felt such grief and sadness for myself. For my uncle, as I watched him with his head down, crying into his hands. For my dad, who so admired and loved his father-in-law. For my mom, who felt as much love and devotion from her father as I do mine. And for Omi, who I suspect I am a lot like. I felt anger toward my uncle's ex wife and her fake ass boyfriend. I felt sympathy for my cousins for not having the opportunities to know Opa like I did. I was so grateful for my husband and for Melissa.

At the luncheon, a family friend, Herbie, took the microphone and wanted to tell a little story about some shenanigans that went down at my wedding. Omi had stayed at my parents' house with my mom during my wedding reception because my mom was just not strong enough to be there. In order to let my dad be there, Omi stayed with Mom. And since Opa was dateless, Herbie grabbed his fancy dancy camera and had Opa go around to every table and each woman took a picture, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Herbie said that he later found out that Opa said it'd been one of the happiest days of his life. lol

"Opa at my wedding"

Create a free slideshow with Picnik!