The Coon Kid

Today was my grandpa's funeral. I really didn't know what to expect. I didn't know him very well and although I felt that paying my respects was the right thing to do, I didn't want to be bombarded by family I have no recollection of. I sit here now thinking that going to that funeral was the absolute right decision.

My dad, step-mom, and brother picked me up on their way through town and we continued on to the funeral. I was a lot more emotional than I expected to be. As soon as we (the immediate family) started walking into the hall and the piano was playing, I started tearing up. As bad as I feel that I never really got to know my grandparents, I still feel good knowing that I met them last summer, I went to see my grandpa in the hospital, and I went to his funeral. It doesn't make up for 20 years of minimal contact, but it's something. And the 20 years of minimal contact wasn't exactly by my own choosing. Anyway it was a very nice service. My dad gave an excellent speech, and watching him get emotional made me even more emotional. Listening to him talk about his dad made me so incredibly thankful that I've gotten back in touch with him. I can't even put into words how much more full my life feels with him, my step-mom, and brothers in it. I got to meet relatives I've never known... people who remember me as a baby. I think the highlight of my day was when my uncle Darryl introduced me to his son, who then said, "oh, she's the coon kid?" Apparently there's a story that everyone in the family knew--except me. My dad used to watch me on Saturday afternoons--I believe this was after he and my mom split up. He had (and I suspect still has) a bit of a warped sense of humor. He would watch basketball with me--sidenote: I wonder if this is why I loved basketball as a kid and wanted to be a basketball player when I grew up? Anyway, and he taught me to call the coloured people "coons". Yes, I realize how horrible and racist that is. It was the 80's though, and I was only two or three years old! Anyway I guess my mom was in the bank with me one day and she was holding me with my head on her shoulder. In walks--you guessed it--a coloured man, and I proclaimed loudly, "Look Mommy, a coon!" My poor mother lol.

It was really neat to see the people I'm related to, regardless of whether or not I remember them. I really like my uncle Darryl... it's too bad he lives two provinces away. And my family in general... my step-mom was very nice to me, which is reassuring considering my foggy memories of her were not so great. And my brothers... even though I still haven't met the older of the two, I'm so darn proud of those boys!! The youngest--who will be 16 in April--is off to Arizona next month for college baseball tryouts/camp. He's going with a group of 18-20 year olds. Very impressive! And just such an all-round great kid. I'm so proud to call him my brother! If you would have told me a year ago that in one year's time I would be in contact with my dad and his family, I probably would have called you crazy. But now that it's reality, it's incredible how much happier, content, and generally better I feel about life. I didn't even know what I was missing, but now I wouldn't give it up for the world.

Other random updates: My tattoo is healing nicely. It's still itchy, but it's more or less done flaking. I haven't had my meeting yet at work. One of the managers that was supposed to be a part of it was off for the majority of last week because his dad passed away. Hopefully we can re-schedule for sometime next week. I went to the bar last night and "the girl" wasn't there. I still had a good time, but was pretty bummed out that I didn't get a chance to meet her. I've talked myself out of sending a random facebook message (lol) and decided to wait and see if she's at the bar the next time I find myself there. If not... que sera, sera. I have condo renovations to finish before spring!