It's odd...

In the five minutes between class and my going off to prepare for Mass this morning, I checked my voicemail and got a message from my dad telling me to call when I had the chance; "It's about grandpa." This had become somewhat common recently, given that my dad's father had taken a pretty bad fall just over a month ago and had been having difficulties ever since.

But when I got back from Mass and my duties sorting the mail and there was another voicemail from my dad, I decided I had better call and find out what was going on.

Hello?
Hello. It's Greg. How are you?
Oh, well, I gotta tell you... (his voice choking up) Grandpa's passed away.

Ever since then, I wouldn't quite say the world is spinning about me, but there's an odd way in which my attention is consumed by the here and now, with the sole addition of, "Grandpa's gone." So, the whole day, the whole week is then different. Out the window go any regular plans for classes and homework. In fly visiting grandma, being with my family, preparing his momentos, traveling to the place of his vigil, funeral and burial.

The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to figure out exactly what I was to do next. "Okay, if I leave, I need to have enough clothes for...five days," and as I opened my drawers, I realized that it was time for laundry. "Okay, I guess I have to do my laundry first." "All right, I have to find someone to do the mail. Also, someone else has to do the morning holy hour setup. But wait, I won't be at my teaching parish this weekend; I won't be able to MC for the Confirmations with the Bishop. Can one guy MC four confirmations in one weekend? Well, the Bishop is celebraing it four times in one weekend. Okay, so e-mail the Bishop. E-mail my Teaching Parish. E-mail my Diocesan Brothers. Wait, it's time to throw the laundry in the dryer. Write a note to the men here at SPS." And on, and on the internal dialogue went.

An afternoon seemingly wasted on little details, but all important ones. Finally, Evening Prayer. Yet all throughout EP my mind was only tangentially meditating on the words of the Psalms, hymns and spiritual canticles. I can only think, "O Lord, have mercy on him. Domine..." I can only try my best. Though the story of my day obviously doesn't end here, it highlights perhaps the most quizzical thing about my day and about the human condition (though obviously not the most important). Perhaps it's just a sort of "shock factor," but an overwhelming event has hit and it has consumed my attention such that I struggle making sense of things, and reflecting. In this life, man doesn't have complete control over his own self, his body, his mind. For me, my mind just won't move beyond, "He's dead."