Family Times

This was a weird weekend of family that probably covered every emotion possible.

Roy and Cat flew in Friday night, so we did the requisite staying up, catching up on life thing that night.  Cat asked to look at my clothes to maybe borrow something the next day, which was nicely sisteresque.  And then it really was the next day, and it was grandpa's funeral.  Ugh.  Funerals are weird, because we could stand around joking about how cousin Chris was going to be Judas to uncle Larry's Jesus the next day, then cry at pictures, then laugh about nicknaming Grandma Stark "Geranium", then cry at seeing Grandpa laid out awfully in a casket, then laugh at Grandpa Stark asking if he could call Cat "Kitten."

I was never close to Grandpa McGarrah, but he was a cool guy.  I learned more about him this past week than ever before.  I wish I'd known him when he was younger, able to drive around and be awesome.

I hate burials.  It seems super disgusting to me, being prepared for burial, then laid to rest in one uncomfortable position until I decompose in a solitary vault.  I happened to read a poem by Billy Collins earlier this week in which he says he wants to be buried in pajamas, curled into himself like the world's oldest fetus.  I like that idea, of death as rest after a lifetime of stress.

After we got back from Canton, we got out a bunch of Grandpa McGarrah's rocks and admired them for like, hours.  I wasn't into it at first, but the more I watched Roy and Cat and Mom fawn over them, I started to realize how awesome they are.  Too little too late, I wished I'd appreciated my grandpa's hobby when he was still around to share it with me.

Then in a total change of emotion, Sunday was Easter.  Church was good, and Roy and Cat came to second service.  We headed to Bloomington for Easter dinner with our Stark cousins.  The older we get, the less intimidated I am by their awesomeness.  I chatted with Tom's husband George about Vampire Diaries (finally someone outside the interwebs who watches it!), watched Epic Rap Battles with Steve, and fawned over Darren Criss with Chelsea.

But mostly I hung out with Jay's kids.  For someone who desperately clings to the idea that I don't like kids, I sure do default to them fairly often.  Braxton and I played baseball until my cousins joined us and turned it into an actual sport with fast moving baseballs.  I opted to find Ethan, who is possibly the most adorable 2-year-old in existence.  He has never once said a word to me, and I desperately wanted him to.  (I think this is at the root of my bad-boy affection...wanting someone aloof to change their ways and love me.)

AND IT WORKED.  Grandpa was showing him some rocks and fossils in the back porch, and of course Ethan loved him because everyone loves Grandpa, so I sat nearby and Ethan passed them on to me.  And then he told me that one was the color pink, so BAM, that is language.  And when we left, I asked if I could have a hug, and he totally complied.  I'm overly pleased.

Monday morning I went to Grandma and Grandpa's with Roy and Cat.  Grandma gave Cat and me some free clothes and coffee, which is always excellent.  Roy had such a good time he told Cat they would have to visit Peoria again soon.  That would be nice, since I was at work when they got on their plane to go back to Washington.

I hope Roy buys a tiny house and drives it to Peoria next time.