Thursday, September 11, 2003

Sad day.

I was idly thinking about writing something about the events of 2 years ago. When I came online this morning, I checked my sister's blog. Just as I was reading the words "RIP Louis John Barranti" the telephone rang. It was my father, calling (with remarkable timing) to tell me that my grandfather had died in his sleep last night. He was 84 years old and had carried oxygen with him everywhere for the last several years as a result of emphazema. All of my cousins (I have a LOT of cousins) called him Pap-pap, but I didn't know him much when I was little and always called him Grandpa.

I'm not really sad yet. Not for myself. I'm sad for my father. I'm sad that I'll never see my Grandpa again. He was always so pleased to see me on the rare occasion that I went to family gatherings. But I'm not sad-sad. I suppose it will come.

I'm trying to decide whether I ought to fly east. The arrangements haven't yet been made, but I imagine the funeral will be in the next few days. I checked Orbitz (I've found that bereavement fairs are usually higher than online deals) and found some very reasonable flights to Pittsburgh, but I don't know what days I'd need to fly on.