Above (sorry, they're dark!) pics are of a mini hocky stick from 1999's memorial hockey tournament in memory of my Dad.
Sunday evening, I began to feel rather low in spirits, again. All weekend, I had felt like this, but it got worse Sunday.
At first, I didn't know why. Late in the evening, I thought it may have been because I didn't go to Kitchener, Saturday.
If you've been a reader of Life with Lynnie (LwL), you'll know that my brother Glenn died last July 1st. He lived in Kitchener.
You'll also know then, that last fall, there was a memorial service held, honouring all who had died within the previous few months. My brother Glenn, was to be memorialized at this service.
After making a business trip to Brampton, and Mississauga areas, I stopped on the way home to attend Glenn's memorial service. The only trouble was, they forgot to add Glenn. So, some family members, friends and myself enjoyed a lovely memorial service, without honouring my brother.
The funeral home decided to add Glenn to last Saturday's service. Nice thought. However, since my sister does not speak with me and my brother B said he didn't think he could make it, I thought why go?
It is a three to three and a half (3 - 3 1/2) hour drive to get there, and then the same to get home, again. Was it worth driving seven (7) hours to see my brother's name on the screen and hear him memorialized? Well, in my heart...yes. In real life... no; not from a logical sense.
Logically speaking, I would probably not even be able to find Glenn's grave, because there is no plaque and the ground would be covered with snow, still. So, I didn't go.
At first, I thought maybe I was feeling badly about not attending, especially since I love and miss my brother Glenn. Around bedtime, I realized that there may be another reason.
In the past, every year, the Clarkson Hockey Association sponsored a minor hockey tournament; for about
13 years after my Dad's death (until my Mom requested they rename the tournament), it was held in memory of my Dad. It was called the Dick Rutter Memorial Hockey Tournament.
Every year, our family members, including usually some of my family, attended the tournament, at least for the opening ceremonies. Usually Mississauga's Mayor Hazel McCallion (who knew my Dad well, from hockey) attended and along with my Mom, officially opened the tournament.
The tournament was always held this very same weekend, every February. Just around the time of my parents' wedding anniversary, February 22nd.
In any case, it was Sunday evening that I realized that maybe that was why I had been thinking about and missing my family so much.
Grief is a terrible thing; an emotion that never seems to leave.
While I know I am still deeply grieving my husband Gordon, and my brother Glenn, every time it gets near a calendar date of family importance, it seems my subconscious takes over and controls my emotions. Without me even realizing it.
The saving grace, is that once the date passes, I usually feel better. Thank You, Lord...
Until next time...
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