Saturday morning, I went to Bubba’s funeral. Originally I hadn’t planned on going. I am a selfish bastard after all. However, upon reflection, I knew how much Bubba’s family meant to me in my wrestling days, and I never thanked them. I wanted to pay my proper respects. I went, I cried a lot. It was tough. At age 25 I was not prepared to see a good friend pass, at age 33 I am still not equipped to handle the death of a contemporary. still don’t like it. I appreciate my brother Tim coming with me for moral support.
On the way out I saw Bubba’s mom. She hadn’t seen me in probably 2 years, she gave me a huge hug like she always does, and she told me I looked great, she told me I should come to the house to get something to eat. Amazing woman she is. Here she is about to bury her first born, and she’s worried about feeding me, someone she hasn’t seen in a couple of years. Amazing woman. I will call her soon.
The rest of the day I was pretty jacked up. Diane and I went to get something to eat, and I was crying my eyes out. Tried to explain the service, and some of the speeches folks gave. Bubba’s wrestling coach was the outstanding. The waiter looked at us really strangely and walked away. Diane made me smile by observing, “he either thinks I just dumped you, or you really like that frickin’ quesadilla…” I laugh loudly, one of those snotty, crying laughs. If you have ever laughed like that you know how rare and how great laugh that is. Needless to say I was pretty spent.
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