Funeral for a Spaceman
Life has either flurried or been dull lately. In part, I've been finishing some work for my parents while getting ready to start a new job with UF. And another's been spent watching my grandpa pass away. Hurry up and wait for the things to come has weighed on me while sitting in churches and traffic waiting for relief these last few weeks. Time seemed slow when a friend and I danced in a nightclub with our cameras turned to our backs to close the space between us. And it sped when smoke poured from a holy can at my grandfather's service, signifying he was gone. And maybe it was selfish to be sad partly because I wanted him to understand me more. He set a high standard by being born from immigrants and among space flight's early pioneers. And I never felt like I could express that I had great desires. He knew I got this new job. I don't think he knew it was in the Space Science building or that that would even matter. But I'm thankful he knew I moved in a good direction.
I think we started to understand each other toward the end. In the end, he told me to give 'em hell. And I told him I would.