Well, the funeral’s been pretty much arranged. It’s tomorrow. I had a bit of a hand in it, helping choose the flowers (Australian natives; both my sister-in-law and I thought it suited Grandad) and preparing a scanned photo of Grandad to be printed in the order of service for the memorial, and I supplied a few descriptive words about him to be used in a speech/eulogy.
For the moment, I feel reasonably okay, no fits of crying or anything. I do still have that thought, “Oh, I’ll have to tell Grandad about…” and then suddenly realize that I can’t, and I won’t ever be able to again.
Tomorrow, though, I’m sure there will be plenty of crying on my part. I’ve got several packs of tissues ready. I cried at the funeral of Andrew’s grandmother, and I wasn’t even that close to her (I just didn’t have the chance to get to know her very well; it’s not that I didn’t like her or anything). I can only imagine how much I’ll be crying when reminded of what a really extraordinary person Grandad was and how much I’ll miss him…
