Here I am a week later, finally ready to refocus my attention and move forward.

I talked to my younger brother last Sunday. He lives in St. Cloud and went to Wadena to be with our family when he received the news about Grandpa. That night when he called, he was talking about how he had met my parents and grandmother at the funeral home and said, "Yeah, I was there when they picked out the programs and the thank you cards and the popcorn and circus animals."

My brother has an insane sense of humor and it's become a sort of practice that our family deals with stress via humor.

I replied to that with, "PLEASE tell me there will be elephants."

He paused, then said, "I think someone is going to be a happy girl!"

It felt good to laugh.

I was able to go home Wednesday and meet my family at the funeral home for the wake and visitation. The room was filled with people. Granted, I was related to nearly every person there, but as I stood there, I couldn't help thinking that my grandpa had touched the lives of every person in that room in a very unique and special way. He was grandpa to me, but uncle to others, husband, father, neighbor, brother....

It took me a while to make my way through the crowd and to the front, where the casket was. I stood there, unable to blink or breathe. My mom came over and said, "He looks like he's sleeping, doesn't he?" I could only nod as I was overwhelmed with sadness. He didn't look like he was asleep at all. I've seen him sleep many times and this wasn't even a slight resemblance of that. I was struck by how "empty" he looked. A body possessing life is about more than having a heart beat I think. The housing of a spirit is what gives the body it's value. I like to think we are a spirit in a body, not a body with a spirit. There's a distinction in my eyes.

I could only cry for a long time. My brother then arrived and sat down by me, hugging me. He then whispered in my ear, "I forgot the elephants."

Laughter in the middle of tears is a wonderful feeling.