It has been quite the day.
We decided to head to my FIL's house after mass so he didn't have to be alone today. He definitely is sad, but is so relieved that J's suffering is over. It seems like the funeral won't be until next week because her daughter-in-law had to go out of town on business. There is an outside chance that the funeral could be on Thursday (which would be preferable since my brother-in-law could help con-celebrate the mass, if the funeral does end up being next week he will be on a month-long silent retreat so he won't be able to get away).
The saddest I saw my FIL was when he was telling us that J is going to be cremated. Apparently this is going against her wishes, but her sons have decided that it is for the best. My FIL technically doesn't have any say about the funeral arrangements, and he recognizes that. He did take the opportunity to remind us that he does not under any circumstances want to be cremated (which we both already knew, apparently I am the only member of my family that wants to be!).
Please continue to pray for her and her family. It definitely wasn't a coincidence that today's homily was about forgiveness - something that I have been thinking about a lot this past week. The one thing that all of this has taught me, thus far, is that I need to appreciate my own mother more, despite how crazy she makes me.
I still can't believe that it is the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I have blogged about it before and I have tried to avoid the specials commemorating the terror attacks -- it was just too much with the stress of the past week. I spent this morning reading the paper and I was brought to tears more than once.
Perhaps it was because it was a melancholy day because of J's passing or perhaps it was because the weather was eerily similar to what it was ten years ago. Mr. JB and I were marveling at how beautiful it was today as we walked into church. He even went as far as saying that he hopes that every 9/11 anniversary has equally beautiful weather.
In the past ten years I have become so much more cynical, I know a large part of it is due to six years of IF, but before the attacks on the United States I lived in a happy, hopeful bubble. I believed that I lived in North America and therefore I would be safe at all times.
In the car on the way to my FIL's house Mr. JB was talking about the terrorists that had learned how to fly planes, but not land them. He went on to say that he thought it was strange that no one was suspicious about their strange behaviour. I told him that before 9/11 I had no idea that such evil could be on our side of the world. I believed that (almost) everyone had good intentions and that wars and terrorist attacks happened elsewhere. I thought that the world was ending, albeit for a brief period of time, as I saw the planes hit the World Trade Centre. If you asked me on 9/10/01 if I thought that the attacks were possible I would've told you in all certainty, no.
I think that 9/11 was my first real moment as an adult. I was already 26 years old and had lived abroad. I thought that I was worldly, but I wasn't always realistic about what the world was about.
I am also very far from the person was so quickly comforted by my dad.
"Nothing is going to happen to you. We live in Canada, we are safe. You can go to sleep now."
That night I went to sleep and woke up a grown up, and it's taken me ten years to realize it.