Home

Karloff and I just back from a trip up North. The first trip since the bomb. It was a huge rush getting ready and going, because of the short notice. Karloff's Grandfather died. He was a beautiful man. Completely content, silly, and happily married. A series of strokes took part of him away. And then a cold, turned flu, to pneumonia. His body couldn't fight it.

We really wanted to whole clan to go. But, my mother, the sponsor of the trip thought it best if we go alone. Other than his very immediate family, the rest are unaware of our family structure.

The drive was about 7 hours or so. We stopped rarely as to make the visitation that evening. We got into town, made it into the hotel, changed, and were back out to meet everyone at the funeral home. We went in and exchanged hugs with all appropriate and looked at pictures of our beloved in his personal moments. They captured him well though. Even included were photos of the carpentry projects he had around his home.

We skipped out when it was time and grabbed food at the local truck stop and made our way back to our room.

The next day was filled with visits to our older family and a meal with Karloff's mom and stepfather and sister and sisters fiance. Not to mention the funeral in the middle. Oh yeah, AND driving back home. The service was nice. I guess. The Pastor made the usual mistakes with names of important family members. But after, everyone was offered to speak of something they loved about him. That was the most touching part.

After the service was over I made my way to his widow and we shared tears and my hopes that she is OK and my wishing I could stay and insure her comfort. Then, following good byes, we hopped in the car and rushed back to Opop.