Which involved my grandmother's wake and funeral, so it was a tough one. It reiterated to me, though, how much I want all of the Catholic ritual and tradition when it's my time to go as well. Sacrament of the Sick and Dying. Check. Mass of Christian Burial. Definitely. All the incense and holy water you can throw on me. White shroud for over the casket. Good stuff. The funeral was lovely, and the programs included a beautiful picture of my grandmother as a young woman, looking over her shoulder real cute and sassy-like. The whole enterprise was a wonderful tribute to her life. To her life as a wife and mother, and to her life of faith.
Now I'm sick. Just a cold, but I'm hacking away and blowing my nose approximately every 3 minutes, so it's not one of my more attractive moments. It's been a difficult couple of weeks, to be sure. I'm trying to get back into things at work, and trying to reorganize things at home after these weeks of (understandably) having a change from the routine. Like having groceries in the house and having a clean bathroom.
Anyway, a cute Henry anecdote before I sign off.
"Mommy, what's in my teeth?"
"I have no idea honey."
"Daddy, what's in my teeth?"
"Enamel."
"Mommy, did you hear that?! There are animals in my teeth!!"
"No Hank, E-NA-MEL."
"Oh. NE-NAMEL."
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