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Nov. 1st, 2011 09:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7They had a memorial service for him tonight at the historical society where he, and my mother, and their mother, volunteered. An open house. With the cover of his book on an easel (it’s a survey of historical sites in the state).
Mom says over 200 people came.
I mostly just still feel bad that I never told him that we all always knew he was gay and it was always okay.
Mom said so many people told her wonderful stories of him, how funny he was, how generous, how kind, how giving, and most importantly, how he always bragged about his wonderful nieces and how proud he was of them. She never knew any of this, really; he was always grumpy to her, they never really got along, and she always felt she was bothering him when she tried to get him to spend time with her children.
Early in his sudden illness he told a doctor, “My sister and I live in the same county, but on different planets.”
The last thing he said to my mother, or at least the last coherent thing, was, “I love you. Sort of.”
Mom says over 200 people came.
I mostly just still feel bad that I never told him that we all always knew he was gay and it was always okay.
Mom said so many people told her wonderful stories of him, how funny he was, how generous, how kind, how giving, and most importantly, how he always bragged about his wonderful nieces and how proud he was of them. She never knew any of this, really; he was always grumpy to her, they never really got along, and she always felt she was bothering him when she tried to get him to spend time with her children.
Early in his sudden illness he told a doctor, “My sister and I live in the same county, but on different planets.”
The last thing he said to my mother, or at least the last coherent thing, was, “I love you. Sort of.”
