Lucky for me as i drove up to Andy and Susan's they were just backing out of their driveway and beckoned for me to park and hop into their car. We arrived in time to be ushered into the chapel at the McCoy funeral home (is it totally old fashion to say, funeral parlor?); but late enuf to be motioned toward the front of the chapel (Ann and Rick behind us). I was suddenly hit by a wave of sadness; was it the location, coupled by Harry's death made real? I began an internal dialogue with myself which was unsuccessful; I felt miserably unprepared, no kleenex - and the speakers were wonderful, with Ann's reading of the Galway Kinnell's poem to his wife, the most poignant. Tears. Of course, this is a funeral! We had only a few minutes before the next "celebration" for Patrick at the Unitarian Universalist church - immediately appreciated for the chapel full of light with trees and mountains out every window. And here was time with music and with Patrick's poems. and music. tears, ah - Chris gave me a tissue she had, only to need it back!
Home on my walk up to my son's blue house, I could better smile and cheer for Harry and for Patrick. I could scream out to the trees how much I wished they were still here and at the same time wish in the sky that their souls might gain strength for whatever further journeys. I could cry all I wanted and not feel ridiculously mournful.
And perhaps most appropriately I watched Robin Williams' WEAPONS OF SELF DESTRUCTION at Elizabeth's suggestion!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Disneyland in China with Micky Mao - OMG I can't stop laughing).
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