Dichotomy

This summer has been off to a strange and rather dark start.

Between raising the rent, finding my 401K blocked, my brother's death, and having our family's traditional "people die in June" experience, it was brightened by being able to visit with my youngest son and grandson and my youngest granddaughter's birthday.

We have been to a surreal celebration of life that my brother, the ashes of honor, would have loved.

Family and friends came from all over to stand around his fishin' chair and pole while his children read a beautiful poem, the 23rd. psalm, and showed us the little wild bird who appeared in his honor.

Then we took pictures! Family pictures with everyone smiling. Cousin pictures with everyone beaming! Three wives holding their exhusband's ashes, big grins on their faces. Only one wife didn't show up. Aunts, uncles, children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, friends, all there to spread a handful, or two of ashes at the farm that gave my brother so much pleasure, have a sip of his beer and then go to the local Italian eatery for one last meal together.

And while it felt right it also felt a bit macabre to be smiling and sparkling and posing so joyfully at such a sad event, which I suppose is the dichotomy of really knowing and loving someone and taking that into true consideration when celebrating their life.

Today my son and grandson left to go home and the apartment is so quiet.

Today it all feels more real.