Back home
I'm back home after the emotional turmoil of a funeral in another state.
Travel went well. Out, I went OKC to Denver to Traverse City, Mich. Home, I came via Chicago. The pisser was that I only had an hour and a half or so in Chicago so there wasn't really even enough time to meet with friends if they could get there. But I called S, and had a nice little chat (even though she was driving and she shouldn't talk while she's driving).
I got in on Saturday night and Sunday was spent sorting out Marks stuff. Let me say up front that I've always been the LITTLE brother. I'm 6'2 and close to 300#. Most people blanch a little when they consider that. However, my brother had lost a lot of weight in recent years, so he had clothes over a wide range of sizes. My mom had culled the largest stuff, the 5x's, to Goodwill, and I got to go thru all the 2 and 3x clothes. I probably tripled my wardrobe. I drew the line at used underwear, despite moms insistence that it was clean (she'd spent a week solid doing laundry that was piled all over his room. Neat, he wasn't.). Monday was the day that the most of the family was coming in. All three of Dad's sisters and all three of Mom's siblings, mostly without spouses, and some cousins as well. Some I hadn't seen since my wedding 18 years ago, and some even longer. Tuesday was the service. My brother knew that mom and her family would need a religious service (that side of the family were all ministers of some sort.), and that was fine as long as it wasn't in a church, preferably lakeside. Well, it was 4th of July weekend and there'd be no privacy at any of the beaches. We had it at the church memorial garden overlooking the lake. A nice compromise. There were maybe 30 people beyond family there (and many more at the party later), and I began to meet a person I never knew before: Bubba, aka my brother, Mark. I knew he was a wine connoisseur, bar manager, brewmaster, and occasional cook. After the service, and at the blowout party at one of the restaurants he worked at, I met a lot of his friends, co-workers, associates, and bosses. Each had a story about him and how great, talented , and gregarious he was. Not the brother I grew up with. He'd won Wine Connoisseur magazine awards for his beers and winelist/food pairings for his restaurants. His friends said he rivaled any 4 star chef in the country; his soups and sauces were perfection. The restaurant he started (before he got sick and was forced out by his 'partner'), still called 'Bubbas' is doing boom business. Everybody knew and loved Bubba.
He was very specific about his ashes. Traverse City is at the base of a peninsula into a large bay of Lake Michigan (the tip of the pinky of Michigan's mitten), creating a West Bay and East Bay. He wanted his ashes scattered on West Bay, the prettier and less rocky of the two. We were going to go out that night after the party, but the water was too choppy to safely go out. We went out on Thursday, on a friends boat; his three best friends, the boat owner, my parents and myself. His friends had gotten red roses for the three of us, and pulled petals from the rest of the dozen to scatter on the bay as well. It was a perfect evening, wine and cheese flowed, ending with a perfect sunset. I'll get all the pictures up on Flickr soon.
We also had to deal with the mundanities of life. Dad offered me Marks truck. A 13 yr old pickup with 70K miles. That I'd have to gas up and license and register here in OK. No Thanks. Gotta sell that (got exactly the cost of the party from it.). Returning his cable box and modem. Transfering the utilities to his roommate. canceling NetFlix (but we never did find that copy of Beowulf, they'll just have to bill him.). Social Security. Insurance, Health and Life. Credit/Debit Cards. You know... Life.
It was a long trip. Lots of pictures. I brought home two duffel bags of clothes in addition to my checked suitcase (thought it'd be cheaper than shipping 'em. Only barely, and United is upping their check-in rates again next month.). I'm expecting five boxes of sundry stuff in the mail this week: CDs/DVDs, Steins, Kitchenware, framed pictures, more clothes: Coats, caps, boots (one pair of size 12 amid all the 111/2 shoes). More STUFF.
It's good to be home.
Travel went well. Out, I went OKC to Denver to Traverse City, Mich. Home, I came via Chicago. The pisser was that I only had an hour and a half or so in Chicago so there wasn't really even enough time to meet with friends if they could get there. But I called S, and had a nice little chat (even though she was driving and she shouldn't talk while she's driving).
I got in on Saturday night and Sunday was spent sorting out Marks stuff. Let me say up front that I've always been the LITTLE brother. I'm 6'2 and close to 300#. Most people blanch a little when they consider that. However, my brother had lost a lot of weight in recent years, so he had clothes over a wide range of sizes. My mom had culled the largest stuff, the 5x's, to Goodwill, and I got to go thru all the 2 and 3x clothes. I probably tripled my wardrobe. I drew the line at used underwear, despite moms insistence that it was clean (she'd spent a week solid doing laundry that was piled all over his room. Neat, he wasn't.). Monday was the day that the most of the family was coming in. All three of Dad's sisters and all three of Mom's siblings, mostly without spouses, and some cousins as well. Some I hadn't seen since my wedding 18 years ago, and some even longer. Tuesday was the service. My brother knew that mom and her family would need a religious service (that side of the family were all ministers of some sort.), and that was fine as long as it wasn't in a church, preferably lakeside. Well, it was 4th of July weekend and there'd be no privacy at any of the beaches. We had it at the church memorial garden overlooking the lake. A nice compromise. There were maybe 30 people beyond family there (and many more at the party later), and I began to meet a person I never knew before: Bubba, aka my brother, Mark. I knew he was a wine connoisseur, bar manager, brewmaster, and occasional cook. After the service, and at the blowout party at one of the restaurants he worked at, I met a lot of his friends, co-workers, associates, and bosses. Each had a story about him and how great, talented , and gregarious he was. Not the brother I grew up with. He'd won Wine Connoisseur magazine awards for his beers and winelist/food pairings for his restaurants. His friends said he rivaled any 4 star chef in the country; his soups and sauces were perfection. The restaurant he started (before he got sick and was forced out by his 'partner'), still called 'Bubbas' is doing boom business. Everybody knew and loved Bubba.
He was very specific about his ashes. Traverse City is at the base of a peninsula into a large bay of Lake Michigan (the tip of the pinky of Michigan's mitten), creating a West Bay and East Bay. He wanted his ashes scattered on West Bay, the prettier and less rocky of the two. We were going to go out that night after the party, but the water was too choppy to safely go out. We went out on Thursday, on a friends boat; his three best friends, the boat owner, my parents and myself. His friends had gotten red roses for the three of us, and pulled petals from the rest of the dozen to scatter on the bay as well. It was a perfect evening, wine and cheese flowed, ending with a perfect sunset. I'll get all the pictures up on Flickr soon.We also had to deal with the mundanities of life. Dad offered me Marks truck. A 13 yr old pickup with 70K miles. That I'd have to gas up and license and register here in OK. No Thanks. Gotta sell that (got exactly the cost of the party from it.). Returning his cable box and modem. Transfering the utilities to his roommate. canceling NetFlix (but we never did find that copy of Beowulf, they'll just have to bill him.). Social Security. Insurance, Health and Life. Credit/Debit Cards. You know... Life.
It was a long trip. Lots of pictures. I brought home two duffel bags of clothes in addition to my checked suitcase (thought it'd be cheaper than shipping 'em. Only barely, and United is upping their check-in rates again next month.). I'm expecting five boxes of sundry stuff in the mail this week: CDs/DVDs, Steins, Kitchenware, framed pictures, more clothes: Coats, caps, boots (one pair of size 12 amid all the 111/2 shoes). More STUFF.
It's good to be home.
posted by Intothelight4now at 11:00 AM
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