Regrets

While I was catching up on posts by my blogging friends tonight, I read a few posts from one blog that kinda pulled me up short.

She was talking about a friend's passing.  The first post was an account of visiting with him in the hospital, his wife staying with him, taking care of his needs for comfort and love.  The second post was the notice that he had passed away 4 days later. It told of his love for his late wife and for his new widow, and the next generation of strong sons and their families. The last post described the service and the reactions of his family, and the sons' care and consideration for their father's wife.

For some reason this account brought me up short, realizing that in my 61+ years, I've only attended two funerals that I can remember.  The first was back in the early to mid '60s, the funeral of my great-grandfather Jerry.  I remember feeling uncomfortable, not totally understanding what was going on, or what (if anything) I was supposed to do.  I had not had a lot of contact with him, visiting his home with Mom maybe 3 or 4 times. 

The only other one I can remember attending was the funeral of my third husband, who died suddenly in 2005.  Of course, being the spouse, I was all caught up in the preparations, along with his first wife. (As strange as it might seem, we had become best friends long before then, and we planned the funeral together.)

But my reaction to tonight's post by my friend was sorrow that I wasn't around for the funerals of my maternal grandparents, a few years apart.  GrandMother and GrandDad were as close to me as if they were my parents.  They had moved from the Midwest to California back in 1959.  When I went to college, I applied to the one closest to them and lived with them while I was in school.   When they passed several years later, I wasn't able to afford to come back to California for their funerals.  Shoot--as I typed that, I realized that I don't even remember if there were services.  There may not have been. .  I feel sad that I can't even remember exactly when they died.  All I know is that it was after 2001. I'll need to contact my youngest aunt, the "keeper of information," to get those dates.

Though I heard from my first husband when his mother died, I wasn't able to go and pay my respects in person.  I was so sorry for that, because I liked and respected her a LOT.

I didn't even hear of my Dad's death until after the fact, so was not able to travel back to my hometown for his funeral either.

I don't remember exactly what I originally thought or felt about the farewells that I have missed, but I know now that I missed important opportunities to say good-bye to important people in my life, and it doesn't feel right.