The world is an emptier place...

Two weeks ago from this Friday my grandmother had passed away. This was a woman who played in the local symphony, got straight A's, was an artist, played the violin, piano, and other instruments in her younger days.

Two events changed her life in a big way. The first was when my grandfather was killed in World War 2. He died on D-day on his first jump from a plane. He was shot and bled to death before his boots hit the ground. This loss combined with an accident in a factory left her in a mental institution for 14 years of my mothers childhood. My grandmother received shock therapy along with other treatments.

She never was declared legally sane but she lived with me for all but three years of my life and was a wonderful woman that lived till she was 90. My Mother (her daughter) and I will miss her.

It's finished...

Today was the funeral for my Father. It's sinking in that my life is a bit emptier then normal these days. My Father knew how to give to others. I just wish he knew how to give a little more to himself by asking for help more so he'd still be here to give to others.

I had the best damn father I ever could have gotten. I'm very thankful for the time I had with him. I will miss him.

My left leg is sore, glad I'm going to the doctors on Friday for a checkup after that viral infection.

Remembering is all I can do now..

I couldn't have asked for a better father, he overcame my grandfathers alcohol problems and grew in to the greatest Dad I could ever hope to get.

He always pushed to do better and his work ethic showed it by working 10-16 hour days for 6 or 7 days a week sometimes even in to his 60's. He pushed himself so my mother could have as good a life she could possibly get with her health problems.

I've always been proud of my father and always will be.

Rest in peace Dad.

:(

I remember when I was younger...

I used to go over to my Great Aunt and Uncles house. My Mom would chat it up with my Aunt while my Uncle, Father, and I went downstairs in to their basement and play billiards. I was and still am horrible at billiards.

Let me try to describe this...

Your standing at the top of a stair case looking down a concrete stair well that's painted white. The stairs are carpeted in a red and there's a fine wooden banister on the right. As you go down you notice separation between the first floor and the basement is painted wood along the edges with painted white concrete block above and below.

You reach the bottom of the steps and as you enter the room you notice that it's white painted concrete block with more red carpeting. There is a second living room parted by a half wall, there are beer steins on that wall, and a round table in the far side of the room with the pool table. In the middle is a nice sized pool table with cues hanging on the wall.

There's a leather covering on the table protecting it when it isn't used and when you remove the covering you see a nice green felt pool table sitting in what could only be described as a 1950's furnished room with everything clean and spotless.

My Uncle passed away in 1986, my Aunt this past Friday. She sold that house with the pool table long ago but I'll always remember them both at that house. Tomorrow I go to see her one last time as they lay her to rest.