3 funerals in one week

In Kentucky, it seems the funeral homes are used much more than the church buildings. But I really prefer northern Virginia's way of doing it...after all, I can't think of a better place for this sort of thing than one's church home. As most of you know, my mom passed away a few hours before Bob, which made for an interesting work week. As the church staff went over the checklist in preparation for Bob's service, I was doing the same over the phone with my sister. Mom had actually given up on having much fun in life fourteen years ago when my Dad suddenly died. Even her final two favorite passtimes of eating out and shopping were reduced to a hospital bed in front of her soap operas the last several months. So, it was certainly expected, and in some ways, a relief. Still....Bruce finally told me the staff had decided it was time I leave and go mourn the passing of my mother like a normal person and quit hanging around the church. (He actually said it with much kinder words, but that was kinda the basic drift of it). I guess it is true I'm the Queen of Denial. For example, I couldn't wait to get out of the funeral home and go call mom so I could tell her what a lousy job they did with her makeup. (I couldn't even recognize her!) I already knew exactly what she would say..."Well, for Pete's Sake, you woulda thought they could do better than that, wouldn't you have? Didn't they have a picture?" But, of course, you can't call where she is from here. I was OK through the reading of the obituary and the recalling of her accomplishments. Then came the singing of "Blessed Assurance" , the opening measure of which my dad would whistle on his arrival home from work every evening. That's the moments when one remembers their upbringing. Mom's death marked the end of an era, which few from today's generation could possibly understand. She was the family matriarch, left over from a time when gift giving and gardening and advice giving was a career. I'll miss ya mom. I'm not sure you ever really understood this crazy little redhead you gave birth to...but it doesn't really matter. You loved me anyway.
See ya in heaven, Darla

near death experience (kinda)

So, anyway, here we were traveling out of the Grand Canyon National Park on our way to Flagstaff in two different rental cars (with me following my husband) last weekend. There was a horrible blizzard going on. Now I know enough not to slam on the brakes...but in trying to follow Dan...I almost followed him too well and needed to tap the brakes so I wouldn't run into him. That's all it took. No doubt the rental car from California with the "bicycle tires" was just too freaked out and did a fast 360 degrees deep into the median snow bank...only 4 feet from a concrete ravine complete with a 30 foot drop. Through his rear view mirror, Dan saw the whole thing. Of course, he stopped, backed up...and came running to see if he still had a wife. Once he saw I was OK, then started the "What in the world were you doing?" I had flashbacks to thirty years ago when we were traveling from Nashville back to Lexington after picking up new bridesmaid dresses in readiness for our upcoming wedding. There was a blizzard going on, and I had taken the wheel so he could rest his eyes for a little bit. All I can tell you is that the wind literally blew me off the road, so that Dan awakened from his nap to found us stuck in a huge snow drift. He asked the same question, "What in the world were you doing?" So here we are again, thirty years later, with him still "yelling" at me and saving my life at the same time. Who would have thought? Thirty years (probably close to the exact day since our anniversary is near), five kids, five practices, and five degrees later....
Life is wonderful. Anyway, I'm not saying I exactly had my life flash in front of my eyes...but I do remember asking God if I could somehow get home to my dining room table where all my photos and albums are sprawled out. I'd like to get that project done before I go to heaven.
I told Bruce that since my "near death" experience I had been really mellow. He said he couldn't tell any difference....he thought it would take at least 4 or 5 such experiences in a row to achieve much mellowness. (He's a pretty funny boss, huh?)