11.23.04 - 6:25 p.m.

I think it's pretty common knowledge around here that my family is weird. Dan's family is the Norman Rockwell normal one, my family is the TV dysfunctional one. We're a small family, made smaller by divorce, location, and long-standing grudges that keep certain family members away from others during holidays and other special occasions. But I'm really proud of all of us for finding the caring parts of ourselves when my grandfather passed away this weekend.

Every time I start crying about it, it's almost an out-of-body experience. I never thought I'd cry. I never did at any other relative's funeral - usually I just go numb (actually, I've grieved more for my cats.) But I've been a half-wreck since this time last week, when he went into the hospital and it looked like it might be something a little more than routine. No one really expected it would ever happen, I guess. He made it through a world war, two heart surgeries, colon cancer, and god knows what else. I had always made jokes about it, like, "oh, have to thank the grandparents for the box of oranges, otherwise I'll get written out of the will," but only started taking it seriously last Wednesday. Friday morning I hopped a plane for Orlando, and by late Saturday night it was over.

I worry about my grandmother, and where she'll go and how she'll manage, since Grandpa took care of her and drove her everywhere and they were always such a team. Hearing her say "I'll love you forever" as we walked out of the hospital room for the last time was one of the more heartbreaking moments of my life.

I worry that my mom thinks I didn't care about her parents, because I didn't go to such lengths to involve myself in the viewings and wakes and etc. as I'm doing now. But I was in eighth grade then, and we weren't scattered all over the east coast. I see the difference, but I don't think she will.

I worry about the house in Florida, the house where we spent so much time and so many family vacations, and who will take care of it if Grandma moves back to Pennsylvania. Will they sell it? Will they realize the only way to keep it in the family without squabbling is to put it in the four grandchildren's hands?

It was good to hang out with my cousins, to really hang out with them, for the first time in years. Jimmy was probably my unofficial best friend for most of my childhood, but once we moved away and he moved away and our parents decided to hate each other (a fight I still don't know the cause of and have never asked about), we barely connected. I wasn't even invited to his wedding last year. It's a cliche that we were brought together again by something so sad, but maybe this time, we'll actually do something about it. I may not invite them to my wedding, but maybe we'll visit each other every once in a while.