sparrows....everywhere...!

Sooo...where did we leave off?

Oh, yes. The quitting of the job. Which leads to the Road Trip of Craziness. Also known as "The Road Trip of Irony" and "The Sparrow Incident".

I missed my cousin's wedding to attend my grandmother's funeral.

*Sigh*

The wedding took place on December 6, 2008. In Florida.

The plan was for my dad and I to drive, mom and my significant other to fly, and we'd all meet up on the 4th. Dad and I left the day after Thanksgiving, giving us plenty of time to go sightseeing before the rendezvous in Ft. Lauderdale. We'd go to the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, then drive/fly back.

My parents and I are spontaneous. We rarely ever make plans. When we do, we realize that we'll probably stray from the itinerary one way or another. We know to expect the unexpected. Stuff happens.

Somehow I knew...I just knew that something was going to happen to my grandmother. As I was packing my suitcase, for just a few seconds the thought flickered in my mind. I said to myself, Wouldn't it be crazy if as soon as we arrived in Florida, Grampy called with bad news about Gram..
Just as quickly as that thought had entered my mind, it was gone. My mind concentrated on getting ready for this adventure.

Day 1
Ok. So we left on time (amazing! that never happens) and had a lot of fun, stopping wherever we wanted to check out the view.

The Blue Ridge Parkway is - for lack of a better word - stunning. Forget the interstate highways. When you're on a road trip you need to take your time, enjoy the sights, and see what's out there. The point isn't to get from start to finish in as little time as possible. If you're terribly impatient and don't have any interest in the scenery, then flying is for you.

Dad and I stopped for the night in North Carolina. That is where I, for the first time in my life, ate a bbq pulled pork sandwich. It's funny how the most mundane foods are new and different to me.
After the delicious meal and an ice-cold beer, I just about passed out in the hotel room.

Day 2
The Blue Ridge mountains had me speechless. Grandfather Mountain took my breath away. I'd never seen such beauty.
We arrived in Pensacola, FL at 4a.m. We slept in the parking lot for about 3 hours after driving all night. (Since we had actually backtracked to check out Grandfather Mountain, and since we were not the least bit sleepy, Dad and I had decided to drive all night so we'd have the entire day to devoted to Pensacola and Gulf Breeze adventures.)

Ventured off to Gulf Breeze to check out the little plot of land we have. Drove back over the bridge to the Naval Aviation Museum. One of my most favorite museums...ever!

By 6pm we were both pretty exhausted.

The sleep deprivation had finally caught up to us. My dad, being 65 (at the time), got major bonus points for keeping up with his hyperactive 24-year-old (at the time) daughter.

Just minutes before checking into the hotel my mom called telling me to call my grandfather.

So I did.

Knowing exactly what I was going to hear.

Sister Jilda Marie (Grampy had nuns over?!) answered the phone and informed me that my grandmother had passed away. She then handed the phone over to my grandfather. My heart broke when he said, "Grammy's gone." The pain in his voice struck my chest, and I cried more for him than for anything else.

I, of course, had to be the one to tell my dad. He took it rather well.

And he, being the mildly psychotic, and the rarely (yet surely) irrational man that he is, insisted on turning the car right around and driving up to Connecticut. Immediately.

I couldn't stop him.

He wouldn't listen to reason.

Of course the day we arrived in Florida we'd have to turn around. AHA! I knew it! I had totally imagined a scenario such as this one.






I appreciate the irony.





So my dad and I took turns driving home, stopping about every hour or so to take a catnap. When we finally arrived in Maryland he agreed to getting some rest and leaving the next day.

Thank goodness.

From the sleep-deprivation, grief and exhaustion I was to the point where I was hallucinating. I kept seeing sparrows appear and disappear in front of me. Why sparrows? No idea.


Until I had reached 24 years of age I had never been to a funeral for a member of my own family. It's weird.

I met the side of the family I never knew. That was nice. They all know my name. Bonus points. I didn't know any of them, though I'd heard of some of them.

A lot of people said they were going to stop by the house after the burial. My dad went overboard (as usual) and bought 1 pound each of ham, salami, turkey, cappicola, swiss and provolone. He bought 4 different loaves of bread, 2 gallons of already made coffee, 3 dozen breakfast danishes. Cousin Marge had brought over a box of doughnuts.

No one showed up. Not a single person.

Hours after the funeral my dad wanted to get in the car and drive right back to Florida.

He's insane.

Instead I spent the week with Grampy. I couldn't just leave him.

Which resulted in my mom's refusal to speak to me for two and a half weeks, because I missed my cousin's wedding.

It was a nice, quiet two and a half weeks.