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Blog, blog, blog......

I like blogging.  My lack of blogging over the past week has been due to the dire need to accomplish more pressing tasks (yes, THIS is what happens every time I start a blog).  But I enjoy blogging, therefore I'm going to make time to blog.  New Years Resolution for the win.

One task I've been spending a lot of time on this week is scanning a sea of family pictures, though if you're my friend on FB this is not news as random baby pictures and my parents' mugs from the 1960's keep popping up on my feed.  The catalyst for said project has been due to the passing of my Great Aunt Eleanor.  She passed away Christmas Eve, and the month prior my parents flew down to the Inland Empire to sort through her things and assure her all matters were being handled.  I hadn't seen her in years, but I always liked her and she was a good woman.

We said goodbye to her in the typical McKie fashion.... just the right amount of respect mixed in with our own brand of humorous flair.  I'm not sure if other families can compose a list of hilarious quotes uttered at a funeral, but few would be shocked to know the McKies' got it covered.  Between my threatening to leave when I suspected my dad was about to break into a series of viola jokes (you heard me, and yes, this all happened in front of the Rabbi and the Mortuary Director), attempting to "check in" to the cemetery on Facebook (this was before the service and right before I went in with my dad to identify my Aunt's body), as well as introducing Sara and myself to the Rabbi as Statler and Waldorf (you can't take us anywhere), my dad boisterously interjecting that a relative referred to during the service "was a redhead", all tied up with my mom asking me if I knew the words to the song the Rabbi was singing ("The Way We Were") as the casket was being lowered into the ground, to which I replied "No, I really dislike Barbra Streisand", upon which my sister's attempt to maintain what was left to be salvaged of the respect and class we had just barely witheld through the service was put to the ultimate test as she laughed silently with tears rolling down her face while we simultaneously held my mom as she cried, saying goodbye to an Aunt who was more emotionally defined as her older sister.  Though my description makes us sound like horrible people, I'd like to think we made it easier on my mom by saying goodbye to Aunt Eleanor in the way we know how, and while she pretends to be embarrassed by our antics, even in times of sorrow we know she loves our unpredictable behavior.  We get the Susi Smirk (TM).  Of course my dad's ill-timed joke in the car on the way home about how Aunt Eleanor wouldn't be "living" at the cemetery managed to cross that line only my dad can get away with crossing.

In all seriousness, we loved our Aunt Eleanor.  She was the youngest of 4, my grandmother being the oldest.  She was kind and generous, even to an extent I wasn't aware of until her passing.  She gave great hugs and would always be ready to greet us with Costco muffins and Gameboys.  She was very close with my mom and a very important member of our family.  She was very weak when I went to see her in the nursing home, but I could tell she was happy to see me and would squeeze my hand in succession to communicate the sentiment.  I sat with her for a while, holding her hand and staring into her thin, barely recognizable face.  After being with her for a few minutes and had adjusted to her present state, to me she still looked very much like her.  I realized it's an honor to spend time with someone at the end of their life.  Her allowing me to spend those precious moments with her at the end of her journey felt like a gift.  A Les Mis lyric came to me (not a rare occurrence); "To love another person is to see the face of God.", because in that moment those words made sense.  I don't really believe in God, but if there is some semblance of a higher power I'm certain I saw it in her face.

So here I am with Aunt Eleanor's family pictures, which tell the story of her life and celebrate the people she loved.  I'm slowly but surely creating a digital archive which I will then back up several times over.  I don't want to be the asshole who lost the family pictures.