The weekend went well, I think.

Saturday was quiet. I did some laundry at home Saturday morning and then headed over to my parents’ house around midday. I’m not sure I did that much — answer the occasional phone call, what have you. I held down the fort for a while when they had to leave, and it was during that time that my brother arrived from North Carolina and two of the neighbors stopped by with their condolences, so it was good that someone was home.

This morning, I went to Sunday School and church as normal and then headed straight to the funeral home. All my siblings were present, of course, along with various nieces, nephews and what have you.

Several of my cousins and my uncle came down from Louisville. My aunt, my mother’s sister, is bedridden and could not make the trip. It is because of my aunt that the Huntington’s Disease Society of America is the suggested charity for memorial donations. My aunt has the disease, and the family suspects that my grandfather probably had it as well, but died of something else before it could be diagnosed. (He died the year before I was born.)

My father preached the funeral himself, and did a wonderful job. My brothers and I were among the pallbearers — it felt strange that we were carrying the casket, not to a hearse, but to my parents’ minivan. Early in the morning, my parents and my sister will head for Middletown, Maryland, where grandmother will be buried next to grandfather. My retired father works part-time at the funeral home, and so he got all the proper permits for this.

After the funeral the family adjourned to my parents’ house, where we visited, caught up, and were well-fed thanks to some kind and generous church members. It’s true, if a little sad, that there are some family members we never see except at funerals. But the joy of reunion is at least a little bit of a balm on the wound of parting.

We are sorry to lose Grandmother, of course, but I think everyone has the right attitude. She lived a long life, went peacefully, and is in a better place. It’s our loss, not hers.

Thanks again to all of you for your words of comfort.