The Passing of Dad's Last Living Sibling

My dad's brother passed away last week. He wanted to be buried in his wife's family's cemetery. So my brother and I took a weekend trip up to the town where my dad grew up. My brother got off work a bit early. I was off early in the afternoon because I had to take a certification exam. We left right around rush hour.

I took the wheel initially. There was traffic west and north of the big city that is north of us. Half way through the trip, we stopped off at the biggest city we could find for dinner. The city had no fast food or restaurants to speak of. Just a single crowded Subway. We went to the next town North, in the suburb of the city. Got some Red Robin burgers. My brother had trouble with the payment kiosk.

Checked into our hotel. My brother recognized it as the one my dad and him stayed in last time they were up there. Was disappointed there was not fridge in our room and at the weak continental breakfast. Made it to the funeral home early the next day. Spotted my cousin who I have not spoke to since she got married like 25 to 30 years ago.

There was a lively priest at the service. We met the daughter of dad's second cousin. At the cemetery, the VFW did a 3-gun salute. We met at a popular restaurant afterwards for brunch. Sat by my cousin who I have not talked with for 25 years. I knew she was intelligent. But I was surprised that she was so blue collar. She hated when she moved to the south. Found out she rode a Harley motorcycle.

Learned more about my cousin's youngest son. Although he is in the music business, he needs a part time job as well to pay the bills. That night my brother and I went to a famous hot dog restaurant in town. Thought they closed early, so we had an early dinner. On the ride home we stopped half way to switch drivers. My brother followed signs for Visitor Info thinking it would be like a rest area. Turned out to be the Harley manufacturing warehouse site.