Music: None.
I left on Friday for my grandfather’s memorial service. He wasn’t being buried, but instead being cremated. The service itself was nice because I saw friends of the family I hadn’t seen in years, and in some cases, almost ten years. Even though my mother isn’t technically a part of the family anymore, she still went to pay her respects. It’s amazing how so many people in my family lost their grudge over her and all came together to support one another- except my cousin who, in retrospect, is a nice guy, but he can be an asshole and blame others for things he did because he kind of fears that realization.
A lot of family members read from a book they all wrote stories in for my grandpa’s 70th birthday in 1997, (Which made him 81 when he died) and many of them were simply stunning. I felt embarrassed to read my little last words written on yellow list paper… but somehow I know he’s proud of me. After all, my last thing I told him (not directly because I was not present), was that I said hello, goodbye, that I’d try my hardest to make him proud, and that I loved him. I really couldn’t think much more than that when he was nearly 20 hours away from dying at that point.
His ashes are now spread in the Atlantic Ocean. He was a captain of his sailboat, and every time we would sail, we would reach the milt marker where he would lift the sails up for the wind to catch. The “urn” we got for him was a paper machete sailboat with a small bowl underneath it. It would float for a few minutes, and it would sink straight down and would not tip over when it sank… it just went straight down to the bottom gracefully next to that mile marker. It was extremely peaceful and a very good closure for his wife, his children, and his grandchildren.
I managed to get back in time for the show. Personally I don’t think it helped much because I still got treated like shit (like I do every weekend), and I wasn’t told of any changes, and it was just a miserable time. I cried during our ballad because the corps director is planning on dedicating that one portion of the show to my grandfather on finals night, where my family will certainly attend. Also, with my mind being elsewhere, I couldn’t recall almost three-quarters of the show… extremely odd for me because I’ve learned my music since February. But it’s understandable, and I really could give two shits about what everyone else thought of my performance that night.
Anyways, it’s 2:45 in the morning; I’m tired, pissed, hurting, depressed, and annoyed… I should get some sleep because I am seeing Lewis Black in Albany tomorrow. Perhaps that will calm me down and make me smile. Because as of right now, nothing is working at the moment.
Here Comes the Flood. 