To Go or Not to Go

Yesterday my Uncle Linus died in a car accident. He was my dad's oldest brother and the oldest child of my Grandma who passed away just eight weeks ago.

In a horrible twist of irony my dad pointed out that when his Grandma (my Great-Grandma Bridget) died in April 1971 his father, my Grandpa Charlie, died in August of that same year at the age of 59. I believe that Charlie was the oldest child. Well Grandma Lentz died in September of this year and now her oldest child is also gone too soon. To add a little light (much needed) humor to the situation, I just want to say that I'm really glad I'm the youngest of Dad's kids. (Sorry, Debbie.)

As for the funeral.....

I have been giving a lot of thought about whether or not I should go back to Iowa for the funeral. My parents are encouraging me not to go for a number of reasons. They don't want us children to think that we need to spend the money to go back for the funeral and they would rather that we spend that same money visiting family at a different time of year. They also are using the argument that only the nieces and nephews within driving distance are coming back (although that actually should be at least 1/2 of us, if not more).

What I've finally come to as a conclusion is that I need to go. I need to go through this grieving process. I have never had a death in my family that wasn't anticipated through old age or illness. And I have a huge fear of something like this happening to Lincoln. Both Lincoln and I spend a lot of time, and a lot of miles, on the road for work. And not quiet little country roads like the one that killed Uncle Linus. Phone calls at unexpected times of the day always freak me out a little bit for that very reason. To have this happen in my family - this thing that is my biggest personal fear - is tearing me up. I need to grieve. I need to see that no matter what happens in life that my family, my core, is there.

Whenever we go back to the Midwest it always occurs to me that no matter how long I've been away from the Midwest it truly is my foundation. I need to go back there on a regular basis. I feel re-energized driving past miles and miles of corn fields and going through small towns like Elma, Decorah, and Ridgeway. It's a different life back there. It's about 10 years behind the rest of the world and I say that as a compliment. I like the fact that people know who I am 20 years after leaving. I like the fact that in a small town things are simple and completely uncomplicated. People are trusting and open and friendly. I like the fact that doors can be left unlocked and neighbors bring casseroles when someone dies.

My trust in the belief that my family is generally safe from serious harm, an unreasonable one - I know, is shaken to the core right now. This has hit a little too close to home and I need to go back and be with those people who have been in my life since the very beginning. I need to be back in contact with my foundation and my family. I need to grieve for a life that was cut too short and a father, husband, brother, uncle, and grandpa that was taken away from my loved ones. Staying here in Boston and going about my life as usual isn't going to cut it. I need this. I need to see the faces of that grief. I need to know that life does go on and that his widow and children and siblings are still functioning even under the heavy burden of an unbelievable grief. I can't even imagine what they are going through and maybe, just a little bit, I need to see how they handle it so that I have some point of reference if, God forbid, something happens like this in my life.

I don't know if I've adequately explained this but all I know is I need to go. I need to be there...