Tag Archives: funeral

I Feel Another Loss…

As many of you know, I lost my Dad in July.  It hurt, still hurts, and I do that thing of thinking of calling or of going to the nursing home to see him, then remember.

However, in early November, there was another loss.  I didn’t know or I would have been at the funeral.  I won’t go into a name, but he was one of my students.  Apparently, he was on a couch and three guys came in the back and one of them shot him and another person.  I was told almost 600 people came to the funeral or visitation.

I am just a bit in shock.  I used to talk with this student a lot.  We got to be, well, friends.  I did that with many of my students and they remember that.  So do I.  He loved playing his guitar and skateboarding.  I won’t say he loved school, but he did enjoy being in my class most of the time.  We listened to music a lot and I would preach at him about doing something with his life here at school and beyond and he would laugh and just keep on doing his thing.

I had told him we would meet at Pizza Hut some day for lunch and catch up.  He never could quite seem to make it.  He got mad that he missed it one time  I told him not to worry, we would do it again.  Now, that’s gone.  He probably doesn’t mind now, but I do.

Hey, your friends, your students, your teachers, your family, your church members, and a lot of other groups of people or individuals…say hi, tell them how you feel, … you just…never…know.

Gonna miss you, Guy!

Namaste,

Scott

An End to an Era

As I write this, Dad has been laid to rest for about 36 hours.  It seems so much longer since just yesterday morning when the funeral was happening.  There was a wonderful turnout, around 40 people.  Many were friends, more of Sis or me than of Dad’s, but they came to honor him.  All things went well.  I was a pallbearer, only once feeling like my balance was going.  I decided I WAS going to help carry that casket, so I did.

Since the service, Mom and Sis have kept busy. I don’t fully know how all this is affecting them.  What I do know is how it is affecting me.  I have been worn out and a bit depressed since the service ended.  I have slept quite a bit, though not necessarily too long.  I got in about 7 hours last night and a 4 hour nap today.  I didn’t sleep well, so it wasn’t 11 hours of sleep or rest.  The headache is mostly gone and I have been able to keep active and work, mostly on my computer.  I haven’t left the house today, but that’s not really abnormal either.

My abnormal feelings have come in the form of being restless and yet not wanting to go anywhere either. Dad and I had a usual relationship, I guess.  We didn’t get along well when I was young.  He was working a lot and trying to write a book or something to get ahead.  I saw it as he didn’t want to spend time with me.  I got to know Mom better and didn’t really enjoy him being home.

We disagreed a lot while I grew up, but I didn’t always say anything; after all, I was passive.  My first divorce was a huge mess and he was very angry with me for leaving my family.  He understood later, but it was tense for awhile.

After my stroke, things were really different.  I was no longer quiet or passive and spoke out more.  I never really knew if he preferred it that way or not, but we seemed to get along better.  I visited 4-5 days a week when he was in the nursing home.  I wanted him to have company and do things, so he didn’t become very depressive and give up.  We played about 15 games of chess a week.  He almost always insisted I play white, so I always made the same 1st move P-K4 (I know that’s not the way you write it now, but too bad).  He won several; I won about 80-85%, I suppose.

What I know is that, even though we didn’t get along for a lot of our lives, I loved him and he loved me.  We didn’t always show it well, but still, we knew.  At the end, we said it a lot.  I am happy for those times.  Otherwise, I might never have really known my Dad.

Love you, Dad, and miss you.

Namaste,

Scott

Flash Friday – Friendship – Saying Goodbye PG13

Rebekah Postupak hosts Flash Friday, 140-160 word stories based on a word (Friendship) and a photo prompt (Below).   After reading my story following the picture, please click > HERE < for the rest of the entries.  Enjoy!!!

Source: “Rose Biodo, Philadelphia, 10 years old. Working 3 summers, minds baby and carries berries, two pecks at a time.” Photo by Lewis Hine, National Archives public domain. Share this:

I remember it as if it were yesterday.  The beautiful ten-year-old girl, Rose (Rosalina to me), marching her berries (always two pecks at a time) up for payment.  This being done on the hot sand (barefooted, of course), in a dress and kerchief, all the while making sure the little one, Saliette, was well.

We grew together, my immigrant background and book-hungry thirst for knowledge always at odds with each other during picking season, and fell madly in love.  This love surviving the bone-breaking stress of never knowing at the end of a field when we would see each other again.  But, a soul kiss, given at eight, kept our hearts and minds pure.  I do wish my body had done the same.

Now, two marriages and five children later, I have traveled six states, in a car of my own at last, to see my Rosalina.

I put my withering hand on hers, at least it was an open casket, and cry.

___________________________________

Namaste,

Scott

To Katy

My great aunt, Katherine, treated me like her son.  Her death weighed heavy on my young heart.  It never really occurred to me that I knew 5 of my great grandparents and 3 were around into my mid-teens.  My mamaw cried the day I got married.  When papaw asked her why, she told him that we were so young.  He then reminded her that when she was that age, she was married with a 5 year old.

___________________

To Katy

By Scott L Vannatter

7/22/85

I wasn’t there when she passed away.

I wish I had been so that just one more time

I could tell her I love her.

She had treated me as her own, giving me all

and asking none.  I feel so selfish sometimes when

I think of that, and it hurts.

She leaves behind a great-uncle, someone who

will miss her most of all

and that hurts, too.

Death seems a random dictator

commanding an audience long before

all are ready.

I see the pain all around the parlor

and think why? She doesn’t hurt why should we?

Then I miss her smile again and once more I hurt.

The cemetery does not look so uninviting.

The air is clear and fresh and the flowers show

that life goes on for most if not for all.

They’ve dug the wrong plot?  Well, we’re all

human, and you know she would have been the first to laugh,

“Going out in style,” she would’ve said.

You make me angry leaving like this, unannounced.

But the hurt overcomes the anger,

and the love overcomes the hurt.

You can’t bury memories and so the love goes on.

I will miss you

but I will not forget.

_____________________________

Namaste,

Scott

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