Happy Easter, Grandpa Bus

In other news, this weekend is one of three annual clan gatherings for my family. Every Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving, at least thirty or so of us get together to celebrate the season and get really drunk (hey, we're Irish Catholic. It's part of our doctrine). This weekend, though, will be bittersweet - the first large gathering since the passing of my grandfather. In his honour, we'll be continuing a tradition that he started, a huge Good Friday family dinner at The Old Spaghetti Factory downtown. Every year for as long as I can remember, he treated us all to the first feast after Lent's fasting. Now, I am far from devout, but still it's always been one of my favourite days of the year. Even though family politicking doesn't cease for the holidays, still I've always loved getting together in a huge group. There's really nothing like hanging out with anywhere from twenty-five to fifty of your closest relatives, sharing stories that come from as far away as Hay River, Watson Lake, Victoria, and Montreal, and just absolutely immersing yourself in a group of people who, flaws and foibles aside, will always love you no matter what else is going on in your life. I was glad that my dad and his nine siblings (Irish Catholic, remember) decided to go on with this tradition this year; although it will be sad without my grandfather, and I'm sure more than a few tears will be shed and toasts made in his memory, still I can think of no better tribute to him.