I’m doing that thing where I have a good thing to write about but feel like I need to write about another thing first but the other thing is sad so I just reload Texts From Last Night or knit a few more rounds on my sock instead. Gotta go through if I can’t go around, and I’m just going to have to be okay with a pile of run on sentences in the process.
I went to a funeral on Sunday, my first in sixteen years and only the fifth one ever. (We didn’t have an actual funeral for my dad; we buried his ashes under a tree and cried a lot and then binged on cinnamon pie crust in his honor.) My friend Judie was the coolest old person I ever met and I’m pissed off I didn’t get to know her better. She was a priest in the Liberal Catholic Church, a second degree Reiki practitioner, an advocate for Feline Rescue, a frequent contributor to the Bulletin Board column in the Pioneer Press…I met her a couple of years ago at our Wednesday afternoon knitting group. She said she didn’t feel like “one of the little old ladies” at a different local group, laughing because she was in her seventies and knew how that sounded. I always enjoyed when she was at knitting, getting to know her better, and I thought I’d have more time. She seemed so much younger than her years, I literally called her a liar the first time she mentioned her age.
Kala and Gwen and I sat in the pew together on Sunday. I can’t speak for them, but I know I cried far more than I expected to. The prayer shawls we each knit for her were mentioned in the eulogy and I just dissolved. My face continued to leak for the next hour, increasing when the priest, Judie’s ex-husband, had to pause in the liturgy to fight back sobs. Increasing when Judie’s son-in-law became unable to speak in his grief and had to hand off his pages to Judie’s granddaughter. Increasing when I realized that her lovely husband David is now a widower.
It’s a terrible word.
David is really great, and a knitter himself, of a sort. I’m going to pester him and make sure he keeps hanging out with us. He let me come over and help spruce up the houseplants last week. He gave a few dozen away at the memorial, and I brought one home with me. Now I just need to figure out what it is so I can take care of it. So it will never die.
Like people do.