My oldest son always said that Greg was the 'connector'. He never let us get too far apart. Until the past couple years, if Greg didn't hear from any one of us for a few days... he'd call us to check in and see what we were up to.
On the job that Greg had for most of his life - since he was 18 years old - he spent a lot of time on the road. He started as a laborer and ended up as the project manager for a commercial roofing company, often traveling hundreds of miles in a day to check on jobs.
He used his travel time to call each of us on different days (or sometimes the same day). When Greg called, the conversations always started the same...
"Hi, Greg!"
"Hi Mother! Whatcha doin?"
"Nothing fun. Working - but I can work and talk. What are you doing?"
"Drivin'."
"Where are you driving?"
"Harrington (about an hour and a half)" (Some days it was four and a half hours to Virginia - some days it was Maryland - it changed)
And then the real conversation would start (and we had some good ones). The details and destinations changed, but those beginning sentences always remained the same.
We all got that call and knew it well. Some days it was the highlight of my day. Some days it was tough to juggle what I was doing and talk to Greg for a lengthy conversation, but (thankfully) I never told him I was too busy.
The conversations were sometimes light - sometimes deep, but he always shared himself and listened with as much enthusiasm. Since he was the connector, he would also share news about his siblings and/or nieces and nephews that he had learned along the way.
Greg was the connector. He helped keep us together. I'm afraid of what will happen to us without him.
Last Thanksgiving was difficult, but we were all there. (Greg's wife and children didn't come, but that's a long story, better left untold)
This Thanksgiving, my 12-year-old grandson was chosen to play in an all-star football game on Thanksgiving morning. Having had three sons in sports, I understand that those things happen - and so instead of having breakfast, we will all be together-apart at the football game.
In the afternoon, my oldest son and his family will have Thanksgiving dinner with friends - while the youngest will have Thanksgiving dinner with his in-laws.
I think the breakfast tradition has run its course. Maybe it's time for new traditions, but it's so easy to drift apart without even realizing it.
Today, I miss the connector.
On the job that Greg had for most of his life - since he was 18 years old - he spent a lot of time on the road. He started as a laborer and ended up as the project manager for a commercial roofing company, often traveling hundreds of miles in a day to check on jobs.
He used his travel time to call each of us on different days (or sometimes the same day). When Greg called, the conversations always started the same...
"Hi, Greg!"
"Hi Mother! Whatcha doin?"
"Nothing fun. Working - but I can work and talk. What are you doing?"
"Drivin'."
"Where are you driving?"
"Harrington (about an hour and a half)" (Some days it was four and a half hours to Virginia - some days it was Maryland - it changed)
And then the real conversation would start (and we had some good ones). The details and destinations changed, but those beginning sentences always remained the same.
We all got that call and knew it well. Some days it was the highlight of my day. Some days it was tough to juggle what I was doing and talk to Greg for a lengthy conversation, but (thankfully) I never told him I was too busy.
The conversations were sometimes light - sometimes deep, but he always shared himself and listened with as much enthusiasm. Since he was the connector, he would also share news about his siblings and/or nieces and nephews that he had learned along the way.
Greg was the connector. He helped keep us together. I'm afraid of what will happen to us without him.
Last Thanksgiving was difficult, but we were all there. (Greg's wife and children didn't come, but that's a long story, better left untold)
This Thanksgiving, my 12-year-old grandson was chosen to play in an all-star football game on Thanksgiving morning. Having had three sons in sports, I understand that those things happen - and so instead of having breakfast, we will all be together-apart at the football game.
In the afternoon, my oldest son and his family will have Thanksgiving dinner with friends - while the youngest will have Thanksgiving dinner with his in-laws.
I think the breakfast tradition has run its course. Maybe it's time for new traditions, but it's so easy to drift apart without even realizing it.
Today, I miss the connector.
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