Until I bailed on work Thursday, I'd worked nine days in a row. I was a zombie. Wake up, go through worky motions (while at work), go home, watch tv, pass out. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. When I got the news from my mom about my opa I just kind of stood there, sniffed a little, and called my dad. I haven't cried and I don't think I'm going to. I want to, but I don't know if I can. I feel as if I should feel more. I'm numb, but I don't feel that that's an appropriate feeling. I should be sad. I should be crying. I should be saying, "why? Why did this have to happen?" But none of that is the case. I don't know if it is because I never lived in the same city as he did. Only seeing each other once, twice a year. Maybe it is because it is difficult to get close to someone so different from you. And although I love him and admire him deeply as a man, he was so different than I am. Stephanie often calls me a fogie, but I'm nothing compared to Opa. And this isn't meant as disrespect in any way, it isn't. OK, here's an example of what I'm trying to get at...

Mom, Liz, and I made the long drive from Portland to Salt Lake City. Mom was actually the one to drive as we were too young, me by probably just a couple of years. I had a magazine about the NBA with me and upon our arrival at Opa's house I left it sitting on the kitchen counter. The following morning, or maybe even later that day, I went looking for the magazine.

-I threw it out.

-What? Why?

-It was sitting out on the counter.

So he's a man who didn't have too much attachment to material posessions. I'm completely the opposite. I love my stuff. I can't get enough stuff. In fact, I'm thinking about getting some new stuff soon. Like a new digital camera. Yeah...

Opa also didn't drink. The last time I saw him, the last trip to Europe was a really nice time. We were there for a family reunion. Liz and I had never even met anyone from that side of the family. The day before the big event we all (Liz, Mom, Opa, myself) went shopping. My mom, being the person she is decided to get a couple of bottles of wine and a bottle of champagne.

-Oh Margaret, I don't think we're going to need that.

-You can't have a party without champagne.

-It isn't a party, it is a family reunion.

All I could think about was that possibly two bottles of wine and one of champagne wasn't going to be enough to get us through the event. There turned out to be a lot of fun people there, but I was worried.

It probably sounds like I'm saying rude things about my opa but I'm not. These are some of my more favorite memories of him. I smile when I think about him. And I smile when I think of what he must have thought when Liz and I came home late from the bar after the reunion, Liz a bit worse off than I.

-How could these people have come from me?

I don't know, Opa, it truly is a mystery. But what isn't a mystery is that we love you and will always remember you.