Few family members and a funeral

I'm beginning to feel like an article in the newspaper. By the time current events hits the stand, it's no longer current.

None the less, I'm dedicated to carry on and post regardless if I'm behind so heres my not so current news.

Two weeks ago I headed to Whidbey Island, where I grew up, to attend my aunts funeral. 

Sadly I never met my dads sister, but I had the pleasure of getting reacquainted with my cousin who brought his moms remains from Texas to be buried next to my dad.

No worries yet, my 89 year old father is alive and well it's just he and my mom have planned ahead and have their plots and headstone ready and waiting for the day I'm not ready for.

Being the youngest of 5 and the only living member of his family, my dad was the favorite amongst his siblings and his older sister always stated she wanted to be buried next to her baby brother.

So my aunt came by way of an urn accompanied by her son, a niece from Colorado arrived with her friend, my brother and his wife, my mom and dad and I were the only attendees at her funeral.

Although we were small in numbers the quaint family funeral was filled with love. There were stories shared and tears shed. The best part for me was learning about my aunt whom I've never met.

After the burial we spent hours at a restaurant eating, talking and catching up then went back to my parents house where we did more of the same.

We played a game, went for walks and enjoyed the wildlife in my parents pasture.

One thing I love about my parents home is all the photos they have displayed on the walls. It's like a historical museum of our family.

I can even guarantee behind each and every picture is the name and date and place of where it was taken as well as the dimensions and height of the building behind us and what time the grass was mowed.

My dad is a picture historian and documentarian for which I am grateful. I didn't inherit his gene as you can tell by my late current news.

When I pass our children will find my collection of pictures of their past without names and dates written on them but at least there will be blog books left behind to help them piece the rest of the stories together.

So instead of playing games around the dining room table they'll be piecing their life puzzle in form of pictures and asking themselves, 'What was mom thinking?' as they look at the stack of boxes filled with undocumented photos.

All in all, hopefully there will be stories told, some tears but most of all laughter shared.