frazzled & frumpy

My day started at 5am. I stumbled through the dark for glasses, phone, sweatshirt. Following the Handy Man into the garage, then the car, I tilted my seat back and closed my eyes. Celine Dion serenaded us as he drove down the quiet highway. Every few minutes, I would open my eyes. My thoughts were going back and forth like the red and white lights that broke the darkness. In a few hours, I will don my Sunday best and take Max to his first funeral. His best friend's father died last Friday. Max has been melancholy, but mostly seemed unaffected. Then, yesterday, he said, "Wes is too young for his father to die."  Yes. Ten is much too young for your father to die. This last week has stripped me of my invincibility. It has reminded me of how fragile and uncertain our lives are.  On Thursday, my friend's husband died after a battle with leukemia. Shirley and I have known each other for 25 years. Neal (her husband) was only one year older than me. Two deaths in ...

On Friday, I was catapulted back to my childhood as I climbed into the car with my parents, Dad at the wheel. We picked up my older sister, Heidi, and were on our way. A five hour road trip, with licorice and Gardettos and bubbly cups of diet Coke to keep us company. There may have been some sisterly bickering, but if so, it was all Heidi's fault. The reason for the trip was the funeral for my Aunt Lanell. She was a tiny woman with a huge personality, who gave birth to 12 children, raising ten of them to adulthood. I grew up playing with her children that were my age, Lynette and Dana, and admiring their older brothers, teenagers who drove cars and played popular music on the radio.  Their house was large and well-organized. The basement was a fantasy land, with foosball and a pool table. Aunt Lanell's death was not all sad. She had Alzheimer's for the past few years. She was in her 80's. I told myself I had no reason to cry. This was a release. A passage to a new a...