Tonight, BD & I went to a funeral viewing. Visitation. What's the correct word?
She was a year younger than me.
I was friends with her to a certain degree in high school, mostly because we ran around with the same people. She was a dear, dear girl--and this was--well life.
She woke up on a Saturday morning--massive stroke. Hadn't been sick. 38. Healthy. Beautiful blonde..lovely girls and a husband. She lived a few days--they even thought she was going to pull through, but the swelling didn't decrease, she started bleeding more and by Wed. night she had passed.
BD is friends with her brother. We both love their family.
And it seems about 500 other folks do too.
It was a long, long wait...but I'm glad we waited.
Her husband, who I had never met, was a kind heart. When I told him my name, he told me he needed Beths. His mom was also a Beth and no longer with us, plus he had met about 5 other Beth's this evening. It was his reminder. His parents were making it through, along with brother and sis-in-law.
And I left without anything.
Just knowing this is life.
So tonight, as I walked to my garage to get a gallon of milk, I thanked the grass for friending my toes. The night sky for shining. The sounds of the clunking train. The lights shining in my house and smells of summer humidity...for being alive.
"Happiness is only real when shared".....from Into the Wild
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