Last weekend, we made an impromptu trip down to Tennessee for J’s grandpa’s memorial service.
It was not an easy trip, of course, by its nature and because we had less than three days to plan it, but I think it was a good one. We got to see some extended family we hadn’t seen in awhile and hear from so many in George’s community what a wonderful guy he was. Their friends kept the house packed with homemade food to feed a whole army, and we watched home videos while J’s mom, aunt and uncle shared stories.
Most of our time there was pretty solemn, but there were small bursts of joy that broke through, too. J’s grandma got to brag about her first great-grandbaby on the way, and I got to show off Pip’s ultrasound shots.
There was also a divying of some of George’s things among his descendents. J ended up with a bolo tie his artisan grandpa had made; I took a big, wool Pendleton shirt that will see my through my big, frumpy winter and which was too small for George’s strapping grandsons. Maybe best of all, we got these etchings, made by George, for the great grandson he’ll never meet, but who will grow up hearing stories about him.