Hello, my loyal flock of spambots. I know you've been worried about my silence, but I am happy to inform you that I have not succumbed to the Rona. Not even a sniffle.
In recent news, my grandmother passed away about a month ago (not of Covid! She died of heart failure due to her very advanced age), but she died at home with my mother by her side; so while we will miss Grandma, we are all very glad that she was with family all the way until the end. We couldn't have a funeral, but Grandma's body was shipped to a Minnesota cemetery where she was interred in the family plot her father bought nearly a century ago. Next spring or summer, we'll gather for a memorial service to celebrate the spunky, mischievous, talented, loving woman that she was.
For we mortals left behind, life continues. It is both exciting and mundane, stressful and joyful. As always. My mother, who was my grandmother's caretaker, and who is, herself, in her 70s, developed shingles about a week after Grandma's death--probably due to all the stress she has been under. Poor woman. She was a saint with her mother's increasing physical and mental needs, and she is also the executor of her mother's estate, so she has been dealing with doctors and insurance companies for years as well as sorting out all the things that happen upon a person's death. She now has to deal with how Grandma's trust fund is divided amongst the beneficiaries (she and her sisters as well as my Grandma's second husband's two daughters), and I know she is very anxious that everyone involved is satisfied that it has all been conducted in an up-front, fair, and legal manner. My mother is an exceedingly honest person. All this and she is still grieving, of course. She confided to me how hard this has been for her. I love my grandma, but I don't think I will truly understand what it feels like until my own mother passes away, and just the thought makes me want to cry. My relationship with my mother has come a long way since I was a screaming, selfish teenager. She's my best friend. She has been an excellent example to me my whole life.
Anyway, (sniff), I'm not writing my mother's eulogy yet because she's still very much alive, and I just spoke to her on the phone and told her that I love her, so let's move on, shall we?
Here's some good news: Sophia and Matt are engaged!
The happy couple plan on getting married May 21st. Sophia already found and booked the venue she wants, so now we're collecting a pile of Pinterest ideas for DIY wedding decor. The venue is beautiful, and this makes me very happy because we won't be attempting to turn a church gym into a springtime wonderland or a tented garden or something, which is an exceedingly time-consuming and arduous task. The very thought exhausts me. Sophia wants elegance, but she is not a diva, so I think I will survive this wedding. I'm not getting any younger. I have one more daughter to marry off after Sophia, and then the boys will have future fiancees who will plan most of their weddings for them, I'm sure. I'm almost out of the woods here.
My parents and siblings and my children (with spouses, a grandchild, and a fiancé) are all coming to our house on Christmas. Happy day! We told everyone to not worry about presents (although we're getting small gifts for each person) and that we just want to focus on having a wonderful day together. We'll have brisket and ham and funeral potatoes (it's a Utah thing, and they are delicious--especially when I stir a packet of dry Ranch dressing mix into them) and cowboy beans and red mung (our traditional family holiday jello salad) and rolls, plus all the snacks and desserts that will show up. We'll play games and I'll play with my adorable, perfect grandson, and it will be grand. I am so looking forward to this. Nothing better mess it up! I didn't get my crowd at Thanksgiving (Gabrielle had Covid, and my parents were newly dealing with Grandma's death), and having them all here is the only Christmas present I need.
No comments:
Post a Comment