Family Gathering.

Today we interred my grandparents’ ashes. It was particularly hard for my father and aunt. As their children, it was up to the cousins and Bo and me to do what we could to comfort. I couldn’t help but notice that Bo and I score high in the ‘stoic and protective’ kind of comfort. Ah, family: It’s all dysfunctional on the inside.

It was a beautiful day, and I like to think that scattering their ashes in the Pacific Ocean is the right thing for Grandma and Grandpa. He can sit at the bottom and complain that things are certainly not as good as they used to be: You call that a crab trap? In MY day they were bigger. They lasted longer. And they caught more crabs. She can flit around the whole world, seeing stuff and wondering and having the kind of curious adventure she loved in life.

I have never understood how they got together, Grumpy Grandpa and Hippie Grandma. She was a peacenik who loved shiny things and he was a poker-playing Captain in the army.The things I have inherited from them reflect that. I got Grandpa’s poker chips and Grandma’s sewing notions.

And today, lottery style, my father doled out my grandfather’s collection of World War II daggers.Yes. I now have a dagger in my house that probably killed someone. Yuck. I tried to explain to my father that I didn’t want one, but in his head 6 grandchildren and 6 daggers = easy math. Now it’s on me to decide what to do with the giant chunk of bad karma I’ve got sitting here.

I’m thinking about selling it on Ebay and donating the money to the SPCA.

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