We all grieve in our own ways. I know that I wanted to start this blog by publicly thanking all those who called and supported me during this time of grief. I say this for those frustrated by my way of handling things. Like many people, I worked through my grief by sticking to my routines and such, trying to keep things as normal as possible. I don’t know, I guess calling myself the rock for everyone else to lean on. Sometimes it’s tough figuring out how to let people be there for me. I’m an emotionally detached sort of fellow, or at least not overly emotional, and I deal with things with my gallows humor (I’m sure you wouldn’t have guessed that about me).

The toughest part came as I tried to explain funerals to my boys. Their great grandpa died, that they got. Our cat, Bob, died last year so they understand that dying means that we won’t see him again. I explained that the funeral was how we said good-bye, so people will be sad.

Well, sorta. At my Grandma’s funeral, Pap and my dad cut up through the whole service. Their reasoning: if either of them would have cried, the whole place would have fell out. That was probably true. Only one woman, Grandma’s sister, fell out that day. At Pap’s funeral, two people fell out and neither of them who I would have expected. When we arrived, my brother (whom many called Ernie Jr.) was being carried out by a half dozen men. That was heartbreaking enough. He’s many things, a crier isn’t one of them. At the cemetery, my baby sister finally lost it. I think she was feeling as bad for my brother as she was feeling her own grief. My older sister informed me that I was going to hell because I faked being grief-stricken in order to get this one lady to quit talking to/comforting me.

Like I said, we all grieve in our own ways.

I didn’t until last night. The boys and I were on our way to the church plant meeting when my oldest one asks me “Daddy, when will yo u be done being made that great grandpa died?” That was when it finally hit me.

We all have our own time to grieve.

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