Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Too much thinking can give you a headache.

As I sat in the funeral home today, my arm draped around Ciera and Ang one chair away, I listened to the minister talk about my Uncle Ed and wondered how in the world had the last 39 years gone by so fast?

My first memories of my Uncle are him smoking his pipe at my Grandparents house when I was around 6 and everyone I knew and loved was still with us.

Flash forward 33 years and I've got 3 kids of my own, both sets of my Grandparents are gone and today marked the 2nd Uncle in the past 2 years that I've seen buried.

Meanwhile, I blissfully go along living my life and raising my kids and trying not to think about the mortality of my parents, siblings, spouse, and children while I rage against the machine at the Yankees, people who drive too slow in the fast lane, and why every channel on tv has to got to commercial break at the exact same time, leaving me flipping through 300+ channels in less than a minute while my blood pressure surges toward Defcon 5.

Yes, I realize I'm rambling. A funeral, lunch consisting of Chili from Wendy's and supper from Long John Silver's combined with Rakes and Trot having a "who can talk the loudest" marathon from 6-8:30 usually will do the trick.

But funerals tend to get me thinking, and for some reason during today's service I imagined what would be said at mine.

I came up with the following.

He loved his family and adored the woman he married. He loved his children so much it hurt sometimes. He loved his friends, his Red Sox, and he tried to do the right thing at all times.

Maybe someday I'll do something great like help find the cure for cancer or end racial strife or figure out a way to find a decent parking spot at the mall without blowing my stack but I sort of doubt it.

And if I don't do anything earth shattering in the next 40 years and the best they can say about me is 2 paragraphs above?

I can live with that.


Beth said...

It's funny how we adjust how we want to be remembered as we age! All I know is that I insist that "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" be fitting into the memorial service somewhere - hopefully will everyone singing along!

Ted D said...

Strange isn't it, Beth? And I'm right there with you!

Phillip said...

Great Post. Could not of said it better. GO SOX!!!

Ted D said...

Thanks, Phillip.


Rich in the garage said...

When you go I promise to have the church in tears...not because their sad mind you.. but recounting the antics from the next 40 or so paloozas you'll attend between now and then.

And make sure you put in a word with the big guy for me, Im going to need a little help.

Ted D said...

Good idea, Jr. Looking forward to spending many hours with you figuring out how to take care of the cares of the world.

And I'll be sure and put a good word in. A little help is putting it mildly.

Tree Newt said...

Bro, three in a year have about done me in. But you know what struck me most yesterday? We weren't sad for Ed. We know he's home. What's hard is the whole that's left when they leave. They're ok...we're not. He's home with the Lord, we're stuck here trying to make sense of it all.

Here's my plan: love my family, live my faith, and let God figure the rest out. He's a lot better at it than me.

Ted D said...

Word, Mattie. Word.

Trot's Hat said...

What a beautiful tribute, Ted. It sounds like your family is quite a blessed one to have each other. My condolences and thanks for sharing.

Ted D said...

Thanks, Bridget. And yeah, we're a pretty tight knit crew. Comes in handy in the event of a mafia war or something. ;) Hope all is well with you and come home soon!

~**Dawn**~ said...

I'm sorry to hear about your uncle, Ted. That one paragraph though? Don't underestimate. It's the *true* mark of a great man.

Stacy said...

Nice post.

Uncle Ed was one of the finest men I ever met.

Matt's got it right: God, family, everything else.

Ted D said...

Thanks, Dawn. And Stacy, have you ever really thought about how blessed we've been with Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, etc...?