and that's done

Today was Mr. Flanagan's funeral at church.

I went, even though it meant letting class out a couple minutes early, then running home and inhaling a quick (and not-particularly-healthful) lunch, and then running down to church.

By the time I got there the lot was full and I had to park a couple blocks away and walk. There were a lot more people there than I thought, but I guess everyone from the bank he used to work at came, and also his family was quite large (lots of nieces and nephews, especially).

I wound up sitting with the church secretary, which was nice, because then I wasn't all by myself. She also praised the blackberry jam bars I brought for the lunch.

The funeral was one of those occasions where you're partly sad, but partly relieved. (Closure, and the person is no longer in pain). I hadn't known he had gone into hospice - I guess that was back in May when I was out of town and I hadn't heard.

I was MOSTLY okay, though when in the eulogy they said his last words were to his wife ("I love you, Ann") I could feel that tell-tale prickling behind my eyes.

They also did a program of photographs (and a few bits of video) set to music. This is a fairly new thing and I approve of it; it's a good way for people who haven't known the person their entire life 
to learn a bit more about them. I knew he loved dogs (I knew him mainly from having "babysat" the most recent dog when he and his wife had a wedding to go to) but I didn't know he had had them literally his entire life. I also didn't know how involved in farmlife he had been when younger.

In a few of the photos, he distinctly reminded me of a thinner version of my dad, but I think that MIGHT be the haircut - it was that 1970s "mature man out in the workforce but wanting to still look fashionable" - a bit longer than what is common now, but with smallish sideburns (bigger than what MOST men wear now, though), but not long-long. Some of you who were around in the 1970s and had professional male relatives might remember the style. Also for a while his glasses had a similar shape to the frames as to ones my dad wore. And maybe, there was some similarity in the shape of the face. (Both he and my dad have heavily-Irish heritage; that might be part of it)

He was three or four months younger than my dad, which also adds a little layer of uncanny discomfort for me, personally. That may also have been why some of the photos felt familiar; they were from the same era that the photos from my childhood are.

They also played "Lean on Me" as one of the songs, and that did it to me a little bit as well.

Anyway. I'm glad I was there for his wife - she's the only other one of the family I really knew (I think I met their daughter once or twice).

But yeah. I'm really tired now. Part of it is emotional tiredness, part of it is just tiredness from teaching - two, seventy-five minute classes are a lot. Especially when one of them is a new prep and I'm super nervous about doing a good job in that one.

I still have to finish my piano practice and have the lesson this afternoon, though.

I really want to take Saturday off and just relax but unless I get a decent amount done tomorrow morning (revamping a chapter of IntroBio to fit the new textbook's format), that's not gonna happen. (Tomorrow afternoon is fieldwork and I think unless it rains, when I get home, I MUST mow the lawn - it's getting bad and both my adjacent neighbors have done theirs.)

Teaching four classes is no joke and I forgot how stressful new preps were.