My Grandpa O'Neill passed away on Tuesday, Oct. 19. After a couple of days of crazy scheduling and planning, I flew to Minneapolis with Mason on Thursday and then headed up to Superior, Wisconsin/Duluth, Minnesota for the funeral, and came home on Monday. It was an emotionally draining weekend, with some very good memories, and some very sad moments.
I am very close to many of my relatives on my mom's side, and always enjoy getting together with them. Grandma and Grandpa O'Neill's house has usually been the meeting place. Soooo many memories there. I wonder how many more times I'll get to go to that house, if ever. That fills me with sadness. To me, it is the quintessential grandparents' house-
My grandma O'Neill is an artist, and painted this picture of my grandpa. It was hanging in the room I stayed in-
The weekend was filled with family, stories, laughter, tears, memories. Here is my niece Grace holding Mason-
the 3 youngest grandchildren of my parents, Parker (Kristina's youngest), Emma (Lara's youngest) and Mason-
Parker, Mason, and my cousin Thekla's baby girl Elia-
My beautiful grandmother, whom I adore dearly, with me and my sisters-
Friday was a beautiful Fall day, and my parents, brothers, sisters and their families spent the day together at Canal Park in Duluth, a favorite spot. I did some shopping with my brothers (who can be highly entertaining) at their favorite outdoor store, Duluth Pack. They dressed me up, and themselves too-
we walked all around, saw the lift bridge, canal, lighthouse, had lunch. Lake Superior is so beautiful-
It's always exciting when an ore boat comes into the canal and the lift bridge raises up for it to pass under; ore boats are so massive, it's rather impressive-
The 7 of us (my parents, brothers and sisters and I)-
Just as surely as Friday was a bright, glorious day, Saturday - the day of the funeral - brought a most grey, cloudy, windy, bitterly cold, rainy day, as though scripted. Although, Grandpa did love cool weather. And it was cool, to be sure. Temperature was only in the 40s. We all froze!
The funeral was very emotional for me. You had to know my grandpa to love him. He was one-of-a-kind to the core. His favorite things were people, talking to people, his family, and the gospel. He was kind to everyone he came in contact with. My mom and some of her brothers spoke at the funeral (so difficult to watch your mom cry), and I learned some things about him I didn't even know, like how, while riding a train to be deployed to WWII in the Navy, the guys found out one of the others was gay and were giving him a very difficult time. My grandfather was the only one who stood up for him and persuaded the others to let him alone. And how he was always taking in those who needed shelter and food, which sometimes drove my grandma crazy, but he he literally would give the shirt off his back to those in need. My grandpa was a farmer, an Irishman, a man who dearly loved his family. He always told me how proud he was of me and how much he loved me and my family.
As the oldest grandchild, I was asked to read the Traditional Irish Blessing (May the Road Rise to Meet You...) at his funeral. I was happy to do it, although I barely made it through.
The burial was most touching to me. Watching the color guard do a 21-gun salute, present my grandma with the United States Flag and then play taps while we all stood in a freezing, strong wind was a most special, humbling and touching experience that I will forever treasure. I don't think there was a dry eye there. I really believe it when they are called the greatest generation.
At the luncheon following the burial we had to get some family shots. Here are the 15 of us grandchildren (out of 20 total, with 1 on the way) who were able to attend the funeral. We came from across the U.S. to be there, a fitting tribute to my grandpa. He would have been so pleased-
My grandma with 13 of her 17 great-grandchildren (with 3 on the way)-
Grandma, my mom and her brothers-
my family who were in attendance-
later in the day some of us took a drive out on Park Point to watch the massive waves. Lake Superior can be a most dangerous, angry, moody lake, and when it blows, the waves remind me of the ocean. It was insanely windy, but very amazing-
Mr. Mason after the funeral-
I left Brian and the kids at home - which took some serious juggling getting then all cared for while Brian was at work, mega thanks to those of you who helped out - and while I missed, them, I was glad to be able to focus on being there for my mom and her family. Mason got a little out of sorts with all the late nights, lack of schedule and constant swarm of people around (I think at one time there were 35 family members in my grandma's house; and we're a feisty, loud, argumentative, crazy bunch), and he did not sleep well at night. And I got sick while there with a cold. I came home drained and exhausted and not feeling well, but am so so so glad I was able to be there to bid farewell to a most interesting grandpa who has left us all with countless memories and stories. It certainly is the end of an era. I will miss you most dearly, Grandpa. 'Til we meet again.
and one for me-
