So, on Monday, my grandson was born. And on Monday, my husbands grandfather died. So Tuesday was a race out to Alberta (I’m in BC).
We pulled into Camrose at 3:30AM, only to find that the hotels I had investiged were closed! WHAT?? We finally found ONE that was open and got a room. But my sleep sucked cuz the caffiene in my system was at war with the physical exhaustion. Worst sleep ever.
Wednesday was a good day of visiting. We saw hubby’s aunt and uncle for a couple of hours. Then we went to the old homestead and visited with his gramma, and talked about grampa and how it all happened (note to self: dementia sucks). Then we went and visited with his mom for a bit, and I met her two new doggies. (note to self: need a baby daschie for Oscar to play with and keep him young). Then we went to his sister’s place (more on that later), then into Edmonton to go get Dad and bring him back to my SIL’s for the night, as the burial and funeral were on Thursday.
Hubby has no memories of his sisters. They were in diapers when he was shovelled off to live with his dad during his rebellious teenage years. Jackie is 25, to Stephen’s 39. However, I have become really close to two of his sisters over facebook in the last couple of years. So I feel kinda proud of how I’ve helped them develop a family relationship.
We stayed with Jackie and her hubby and daughter for two nights. They were total rockstars and put us up in their fifth wheel. The first night we had a space heater… and it was COLD. Bad sleep. The second night, they figured out the furnace. Not too bad that night.
Cold. Holy fucken hell is it cold in Alberta right now. And did this little BC girl bring proper clothing? Hells no! It was not even jacket season when I left BC. So standing out in the little graveyard for the internment, I gotta tell ya… I was frozen solid. It was 11 degrees, but I’m talking the chilliest 11 degrees you ever did meet!! The wind. Holy GOD the wind. Biting.
I met tons of hubby’s family. Lots of faces that I’ve only heard the names to. Lots of his dad’s friends that he has stories of growing up with. It was very cool.
As for Grampa, his last five years the dementia was full force kicking in. And it was ugly. When hubby went on the weekend to see him (drove his motorbike there and back… holy cow long trip via motorbike) he was completely traumatized. He said “I don’t know who that man in that bed was, but that’s not my grampa”. He talked about how Grampa was a farmer. And with farmers there is a mentality. And dignity is a huge part of it. He talked about how it would have been more dignified to take him out back and shoot him, then to let him suffer the indignity of diapers and such. It was pretty damn horrible.
So the funeral was a blessing, really. Most were sad, yet relieved that it was over. He was 87 years old. He had a long, good life. He left an absolute legacy.
After the service, I made dinner for the clan. It was the least I could do to thank them for their hospitality. Then we trooped over to my SIL’s stepdad’s to watch Calgary stomp on the Canucks. *shakes head*
We left at 9am Friday to drive home. The trip there took 14.5 hours. The trip home was only 12. Not bad. But holy tired. And now I just want to rest and relax. Spend some quiet time on the couch with my man and my dogs.
I see while I was gone that my son and his girlfriend have broken up for good (apparently), so I sent a chatty message of love to her. I’ve made it very clear through their pregnancy that I want a relationship with her and the baby outside of her relationship with my son. I am not letting it affect me. I’m not being sucked into the drama. I refuse to lose another grandchild to drama and insanity.
I could get very emotional about this topic, so I’m going to end it here.