Paul Roub : blahg

My Grandmother died on Wednesday. She was ready, really ready -- she'd made that clear. And she'd had 92 years of a life she was very happy about. That's how it's supposed to go, but it doesn't seem to make any of it easier.

Such a strange combination of feelings at the viewing and the funeral -- sad about Gram; sad for my Dad especially; happy to see my brothers and my cousins and old friends; missing Christy and the kids, feeling guilty that they're all home with fevers so Christy couldn't come; working through the same fever myself. Just unreal, but it's always unreal.

But man do we miss her.

Posted by Paul Roub at 4:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

My grandmother was...

I get to learn to start sentences that way now.

My grandmother was sweet, kind, unconditionally loving, funny. And, at the end, sleeping peacefully with my mother at her bedside.

Time to catch my flight.

Posted by Paul Roub at 2:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've been a Beatles fanatic since age 5 or so. A friend's older brother played me side 2 of Sgt. Pepper, and that was it. Just this morning, it hit me that the common thread between a number of apparently-utterly-dissimilar bands whom I love was this -- beneath the surface, you could hear they clearly love the Beatles.

So I get to work, and there's voice mail from Bob telling me that George Harrison had died. I won't waste time extolling his virtues; listen to "All Things Must Pass" or the solo in "Something" for that. It's just heartwrenching in a very particular way, when someone who'd brought beauty and joy into your life for so many years is gone; not unlike the deaths of Jim Henson, Ted Geisel, Douglas Adams... and I'll never really get over Lennon's death.

But as always, it's his wife and family who've suffered the real loss. My thoughts are with them.

Posted by Paul Roub at 9:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)