Category: The Travel Diaries

Saturday, August 18th, 2018: Morning – 6:15A.M.

I could hear my mother’s muffled voice calling out my name in my sleep. It felt like those days when I would dread to wake up so early for school and an extra 5 minutes felt like an hour more. I know this couldn’t be one of those times I asked for an extra 5 minutes. My aunt was coming from Jersey to pick us up at 7:15, so I knew how limited my time was.

The weather was gloomy and humid; two things I wished it wasn’t on this already dreadful day. Something felt weird in the air. It felt like Sunday for some strange reason, and I couldn’t get over the fact that something, just something was wrong today. I didn’t wake up refreshed like I normally do. I didn’t feel calm whatsoever. I felt the racing thoughts pumping through my mind. Then, it hit me after a week of nonchalantly speaking about it: today I am opening wounds that can possibly still bleed out. 

My grandfather didn’t want a funeral. The weekend before he died, his wishes were that he get cremated and that some of his ashes would be spread around the treehouse he built over a decade ago and that my grandmother would keep them. He also wanted a mass, which took me several google searches to find out what was even the difference between the two. The week he passed away, almost everything was beginning to get arranged for this mass, and the date was set: August 18th, 2018.

I woke up that morning thinking I grieved enough to pass the point of sadness. I thought I was going to be able to celebrate my grandfather’s life through memories and pictures and laughs. My grandfather would want us to remember him for the many things he was, instead of being sad that he was gone. I thought my family was ready for today as well. We all got dressed and pretty much said the same thing over and over again: “I can’t wait to get this over with.”

I could tell my mother was extremely anxious. In the time span from the time we got to my aunt’s house to the actual service, my mother had taken three smoke breaks outside my aunt’s deck. My grandmother was anxious because she was just tired of crying and being torn apart by her loss. Even going through the weird vibes and anxiety flowing through everyone under my aunt’s roof, I stayed optimistic. I remained positive, again trying to convince myself that I was over the grieving process.

Then, we left.

10:55A.M.

I had some anxiety going to the Church because I thought we were going to be late. My aunt drove the ladies to the Church while my uncle drove the boys. My aunt took a couple of wrong turns and time was passing. I feel like we were one of the last people to arrive, yet we were the most crucial part of the service because my grandmother had my grandfather’s ashes with her.

Walking into the church full of people felt as agonizing as walking down the aisle for a wedding. I mean, I’ve only been to one wedding in my life, and that was 20 years ago. I was only four. It just felt like the front of the church felt like it ran for a mile. But we entered the Church with my sister holding onto my grandmother’s arm. We were instantly greeted by my grandfather’s sisters and family who were very close to my grandmother. In the height of it all, my grandmother started crying. My sister started to tear. I started to tear. 10 minutes into the Church and I was already feeling the knot form in my throat. Easy there, Liz. You’re going to be fine. By the time we got to the middle of the aisles, my grandmother spotted her eldest sister sitting down and greeted her with a tearful hug. I had to look away until the encounter was done.

We had all found a row of seats at the front of the Church, presumably reserved for my grandmother and her side of the family like my mother, aunt, and grandchildren. A couple of relatives from my uncle’s side of the family also came to pay their respects, and to support my grandmother; especially my uncle’s mother who had just lost her husband due to illness just a couple of months before. The greetings and the hugs felt weird to me, not because they’re weird or anything, but I felt a major disconnect from my own body and what was going on around me.

I felt myself cave in. I felt myself slipping from reality more and more as we sat and waited for the mass to start. I saw the pictures on the screen of my grandfather; smiling, happy. I saw pictures of both my grandparents together, smiling. Happy. Familiar. It was a version of my grandmother I was used to seeing: happy, adding onto stories that my grandfather used to tell us, always the center of attention whenever my grandfather would joke on her constantly out of love, and present. I looked at those photos feeling as if I lost both my grandparents. I had to look away before I got too emotional. I was still fighting back the tears.

Looking around me, I had seen my sister look at the photos too. All I could see was my sister hold her eyes with tissues as she wept in sadness. I kindly had to rub her back for support, knowing that she needed at least someone to let her know that everything was going to be fine, no matter how desperately I needed someone rubbing my back telling me the same thing.

Starting the service felt like an eternity. The pictures kept circulating and the entire row of my family was just silent. I didn’t know what to do with myself; I wanted anything else than to focus my attention on the photos on the screen. I turned to my left and saw my 16-year-old cousin just crying and crying. I haven’t seen this boy cry in what feels like decades. I don’t even remember him crying that much as a baby, and even though there’s an eight-year difference, he was my first cousin, and when I was little, we were really close. Of course, with distance and age changed that, and it wasn’t recently on our trip to Pennsylvania when I got to have a decent conversation with him without feeling weird or nervous or whatever. Seeing him weeping caught me off-guard. In a sense, it brought my body back to reality: we’re at a mass for a loved one that many of us are forced to think about during this service, and people are going to grieve and cry.

I rubbed my cousin’s back the same way I did for my sister. I don’t know when my body thought it was its job to be the peacemaker of everything, but it was. Again, while also needing someone to do that for me.

Shortly after that, the photos stopped, and the service started.

11:45A.M.

For most of the service, I felt disconnected. I felt like the religious perspective during the service was something I couldn’t focus on. Yeah, it’s because I wasn’t raised with a religious background, and quite frankly I don’t understand points and certain aspects of it, but in a way, I was glad that I couldn’t. Again, I couldn’t allow myself to completely be vulnerable, especially with all of my family around. I teared up when I felt the most touched about the words said about my grandfather, but I honestly couldn’t hear anything else because I was tuning out for my own good, I was trying to protect myself from the pain.

It wasn’t until my grandfather’s grandson on his side of the family came up to speak a couple of words about him. Some moments were funny, and some were extremely spot on about how my grandfather’s personality was, and he closed it off reflecting on a memory that he holds dear to his heart and now interprets it into a whole new meaning.

Whenever there was a bee flying around and we would all get scared of it stinging us, my grandpa would always tell us that we shouldn’t be afraid of something that is smaller than us. And I believe that’s the message about life.

Reflecting back on my grandfather, he was ballsy, tough, courageous, and wasn’t afraid of nothing. He spoke his mind pretty much about everything, and that character reflects on the stories he would tell about the times he was younger. When it was his time to go, he wasn’t afraid. He took it still being brave, courageous, tough, and yes, even funny. He would always tell his grandkids to never fear anything, and I personally think that’s always going to be his life-long message to us as we go through this tough time.

Never be afraid of something that is smaller than you.

Sunday, August 19th, 2018 – Night – 12:36A.M.

As I write this, I think back to today and although I’m glad that the service is finally over and done with for the sake of having to reopen wounds that are not healed yet, I am glad that my grandfather can now finally rest and live in nature.

I will always remember my grandmother telling me the story of the first time I was introduced to my grandfather. I was too young to remember my biological grandfather, so when my grandmother introduced my grandfather to us, I apparently ran over to him and gave him a huge hug. I don’t remember this day for myself, but I know I will always keep that story close to my heart.

Rest in peace, grandpa. ❤

-Liz. (:

Saturday, July 28th – The Arrival, The Reunion, & The Toast:

I can’t lie and say that I wasn’t nervous to see my family. The last time we all got together was for New Year’s Eve, and the cold, freezing weather had all of us feeling on edge and irritated. That was exactly 7 months ago. We’d normally never wait this long to see each other, but for reason, none of us really spoke to one another the first half of the year. It wasn’t until my grandfather got sick in late-June. On June 24th, we found out he has cancer. On July 24th, he passed away. The day after he passed away, my family finally planned a trip to Pennsylvania to visit my grandmother for support and company during this difficult time in her life. I can’t lie and say that I wasn’t upset at my family for not making sure we all saw each other more often. I was very upset that it took a death of my grandfather to drop everything and come together. Nowadays, it feels like it takes a death to be reunited with family.

We left for Pennsylvania early in the morning; the drive to my grandmother’s house is almost, almost, a 3-hour drive; that’s if we decide to stop for a bathroom break which is always a yes. Throughout the car ride, I couldn’t help but think how this weekend was going to play out. On a normal occasion, we would be greeted by both of my grandparents and their dog, Foxy. We would eat lunch as soon as we walk in. To know that wasn’t the case this time around was weird; I didn’t expect for it to be what it was really going to be.

We pulled up to my grandmother’s property; you could hear Foxy’s little dog bark through the porch windows. We didn’t see my grandmother until we actually all got out and started to take our bags from the car trunk. My sister was the first to hug my grandmother. My grandmother immediately started crying and hugged my sister as tight as possible. I teared up watching them. I hugged her and I felt how heartbroken she was. I didn’t expect my grandmother to look the way she did; she’s normally strong and happy to see her grandkids. That same energy wasn’t there this time, and that’s when I knew I haven’t grieved my grandfather enough. I had more to think about as I was up there.

On a lighter note, I saw my first bear! He came around to eat some fallen apples from my grandmother’s apple tree in the back of her property. It only took 16 years since I’ve been going there to see a bear!

Later on in the day, my aunt and uncle wanted to take my grandmother out to eat for her birthday which was earlier that week. That’s another thing: my grandmother turned 73 last Thursday; two days after my grandfather passed away. For as many birthdays has my grandmother has left, she is left reminded that the man she loved for the last 19 years passed away just days before. I understood my grandmother’s wish of not wanting us to celebrate her birthday that weekend. We didn’t, but we did take her out to eat at a nice little restaurant in Milford, Pennsylvania. The food was delicious, the atmosphere was friendly, and it felt nice to be around family after so long. When our drinks came out, my uncle picked his glass up and simply said, “let’s toast.” We all picked up our glasses, and he said, “For Ray.”

That night, I felt a tidal wave of emotions hit me. Everyone was in their rooms already taking some time for themselves, and I called my partner to try to calm myself down. I hated seeing my grandmother so upset and so stressed out. I hated seeing my aunt and my mother worry about her. We all were, and after hearing some personal things throughout the day, everything was tieing itself in my throat. I had to take the advice of my therapist and not be afraid to grieve. Cry it out. The one who’s passed wants to be remembered. I thought I had grieved already, but it was different actually being up in Pennsylvania, in his house. Seeing all the pictures of him and my grandmother smiling and happy. It’s heartbreaking. It’s such a different stage of grieving that I never got to feel with a loved one.

Sunday, July 29th – The Deer Who Stared, The Silent Dinner, & “Yazy”:

Sunday was an absolutely beautiful day weather-wise. It wasn’t too hot and it wasn’t humid; something me as a New Yorker haven’t experienced since… May? Anyway, I spent most of my day on Sunday outside either playing “Yazy”; a bootleg version of the game “Yahtzee”, or that triangle thing with the holes and the pegs… this thing. Anyway, I pretty much stayed on the porch for most of the day; I watched my sister give both my mother and my grandmother haircuts that afternoon. The boys in the family went mini-golfing for the afternoon, so the ladies (and Foxy) stayed in the house to relax. I was content and at peace for once in a really long time; maybe that was just the vacation speaking in me, but for once, I didn’t want to go back to NYC the following morning. Every time I’m in Pennsylvania, I’m a lot more calm and peaceful than I usually am in the city. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m escaping my reality when I’m up there. Maybe it’s just the beautiful scenery I don’t get to see often. To this day, I don’t know what actually calms me down up there.

While I was outside during the day, my sister had started to give my grandmother a well-needed haircut. Because we were waiting for the bear to come back out again since we first saw him yesterday, we were all looking out into the field on my grandmother’s property. Some deer came and went with her babies getting apples, but then one came immensely close to the deck where we were sitting and started staring at my grandmother. She had asked both my sister and me who the deer was staring at, and it was clear as day that it was staring at her. The deer didn’t look away until a minute or two passed. My family and I believe that when a loved one passes away, they come back to visit in some shape or form. We all had a thought that possibly maybe that deer was our grandfather, looking and checking on our grandmother and see how she is doing. Now there are some things I don’t believe in, but coincidences such as that are scary. My mother has made it known that whenever a pigeon would land on our windowsill and just stay there, she believed it was her father who came to check up on her. I don’t know what would my uncle come back as, but there have been times where I felt some sort of presence in my house. It’s really weird and freaky, but it’s calming to know that loved ones who pass can still check up on you and see how you are doing.

Since we are an Italian family, it wouldn’t be right if we didn’t have pasta as our family Sunday dinner dish. My aunt made her infamous meatballs and spaghetti sauce (in which she cooks almost all day like a real Italian) and by the time dinner was ready, I was starving. We all ate in the dining room as usual, but instead of there being 9 seats, there were only 8. Dinner was silent; it’s something we never experienced during a family lunch or dinner. Whether we are in New Jersey at my aunt’s house or we’re in Pennsylvania at our grandparent’s house, our family dinners were always talkative and funny. That reason, I soon realized, was because my grandfather was the one who would start off the conversation and who would crack all the jokes. Maybe it wasn’t the occasion to do that this time (we didn’t celebrate anything that had passed recently; no junior high school graduation celebration for my youngest cousin, no grad school graduation celebration for me, and no 16th birthday celebration for my oldest cousin). Dinner was delicious, but the atmosphere felt heavy, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Quickly after dinner, my grandmother went outside to grieve on her own, and again it was hard for me to see her like that. Knowing after tonight she would be eating dinner on her own the following day after we left was extremely heartbreaking.

Monday, July 30th – The Departure & The Future:

The weekend trip to Pennsylvania was now coming to an end and it was now time to gather our stuff to head back to the city. It was a gloomy and chilly Monday morning; it felt like the type of weather you feel in the beginning of April or something. We packed all of our things, my sister and I played with Foxy for a bit, we had breakfast and by the time it was 8 o’clock, we said our goodbyes. The goodbye to my grandmother was extremely hard this time around; in the recent years, they’ve gotten harder. I knew that my grandparents were getting older and every time we got to see them was a blessing; I just wish we all knew that the last time we got to see my grandfather in person and in good health that we knew it was going to be our last. My grandparents never got to see any of us as often as they liked only because of busy schedules and the distance from the city to the countryside of Pennsylvania. Winters were extremely hard to get together because they would get an immense amount of snow that made it hard for them to come down to the city to see us. Anyway, this goodbye was hard because my grandmother was sad to be alone again. She has people visiting her every other day nowadays since my grandfather’s death, but there’s nothing like having your own kids be by your side while you’re grieving such a loss. Although it was heard to say goodbye, we made sure it wouldn’t be the last one for a really long time.

In two weeks, my grandfather’s side of the family is putting together a memorial for him in New Jersey. To pay our respects my family is attending this service, so it felt good to know that the next time we were going to see our family wasn’t just up in the air like it usually is. Although they are putting on a memorial, my grandfather didn’t want to have a funeral. My grandfather was a very honest man, he wasn’t afraid to say what was on his mind despite what other people might take it. He believed funerals were all a sham; people would rather come and visit you while you’re dead than alive, and that’s the honest truth about life. He and my grandmother decided they wanted to be cremated, so my grandfather got cremated earlier this week. He told my grandmother that he wanted some of his ashes spread around the treehouse he built over a decade ago, and for her to keep the rest of them.

Life isn’t going to be easy for my family these next couple of months, and we don’t know how the future is going to turn out for us, but we knew that the memories we have of my grandfather will be a lot easier to laugh at than cry. We know that we will be able to make new memories and redefine some new traditions in light of this tragedy. In a sense, my grandfather brought my family and me closer, and that’s honestly all he ever wanted.

Rest in Peace, Grandpa.

-Liz. (: