(no subject)
When my father died I remember I asked my mother for money to go to ross and buy clothes for the funeral. Black ones. When i got the call I packed strangely. The room was spinning and I grabbed what must have been a suitcase, or no, backpack or a plastic bag and filled it with strange things. Maybe a pair of pajama pants or a shoe. One shoe. nothing black. No underwear. Strange things. And at home I needed clothes. So I bought a "funeral skirt" which every time I ever wore again i remembered what it was, and a pair of shoes, that ended up with dirt from the cemetery all in them. They were heels and sunk into the grounds forcefully. At the time this was important. Im dressing for another funeral now... a memorial service for my old best friends mother, Janet Dickie. Its funny how memories come back, even when you havent seen someone for years. Snippits of memory, even if they werent important at the time. Rides they gave you, times you spent at their house, invitations to visit you never kept. I spent a lot of time thinking, about all the people Ive lost, and what I could have done with them if I had more time. Im wearing a black dress and my heels.Its a saturday afternoon. Its bright outside and sunny, and the service it going to be at the church where my sister and I attend weight watchers meetings. I havent been to aproper funeral besides my fathers and my friend amandas in years. Her funeral was so large it expanded and filled one whole church and those of us that were late ( my friend annie and I speeding to McCallister oklahoma, trying to make jokes) were put into a basement room and watched the service on a screen. I cried so much.My cousin Ray died this week too. She was 100 years old. I never really knew her but every birthday she sent a card that she had designed. Her pictures were on our walls and when she turned 100 she sent us her jewelrey that she had made. When my mother had heart surgery and there were complications, I remember calling Ray, and her voice was so strong. i told her everything was fine even though I wasnt sure it completely was. She had been waiting by the phone, anxiously to hear how it went. She was so worried and now so happy she said. her voice was so strong. In the end her friend said, she called out for her mother and said she wanted people to say the kaddish for her. My mother did, in a service. And I did, in the bathtub, before I went to sleep at night. a prayer of mouring for those we have lost, even if we didnt properly know them as well as we should. and every yom kippur I say the prayers of remembrance for those you have personally lost. I say them for my father.