The Death of Imagination

I didn't go to the funerals for either of the last two of my grandparents to pass away. In my grandmother's case, I had just a few days before made a cross country trip to see her in the hospital before she died. Fortunately she was still lucid and we had a very nice final visit. Somehow I thought it would be extravagant to fly across country again just a week later. In my grandfather's case, he was a bit of an old cuss and I was sort of sick at the time anyway. At times I regret not going, but only at times. If I had gone, I wouldn't have those occasional pangs of regret. The occasional regret has nothing to do with what my other relatives think; it's more just squaring in my own mind whether I sufficiently honored them.