I know this may be morbid but after the funeral my nephew was trying to get people to take home flower arrangements. The one I actually bought was too big but i liked a small one with spring colors. I took it into work today and made the mistake of telling a couple people where the arrangement came from.
They do not look like funeral flowers or anything but now they are all weirded out. I did not realize this was not a socially acceptable practice. Oops. Oh well, they are pretty, and I like them!
I have seen the worst possible situation in the last two days. A gorgeous proud woman lay in front of her friends and family in some damn memaw sweater with jewelry that did not match. WTF? Seems her husband - who I do understand is really distraught - picked out her clothes.
OMG -- DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN TO ME!!!
Please swear to me (and to ALL your other girl friends) that you will not let your husband or your sons (unless of course they are gay and capable of such a task) pick our your burial clothes. This has me hugely upset to the point that I may have to form some sort of support group or at the least plan my funeral ahead of time!
I swear to my friends here and now I will not allow their husbands to humiliated them with mismatched apparel! I promise, I promise.
At rest, my beautiful Sue, the easy laugh has drifted away and her perfume no longer lingers. The lipstick kisses are all washed away Her only son, battered and exhausted from all the week of hell, held her lifeless hand and wept. We all did.
I am so glad I was there, to make sure she knew how much I love her, and so she could hear my voice, the voice that is my mothers, the calm one, the soothing one. My Mother was waiting for her, the coffee on, the potatoes frying, and the table set for a gab fest. My Brother is there too so they can watch their son and grandchildrentogether.
For those of you who remember the ‘Cake of the Day’ craziness, will remember they went to both my mother in law and my ex-sister in law. It breaks my heart to tell you, but my ex sister in law was transported to Hospice Comfort Care this weekend. This was the person who held my hand while my mother passed and the person who’s hand I will hold while she passes.
(On a ‘what are the odds?’ note, she is in the same room that Fat Cat’s uncle was in last month, the same exact room, the same bed, everything – and it is a giant place. Funny God, real funny.)
So my eyes keep swelling up and they hurt and are flaming beet red. The first time it happened was after spending a weekend baking cookies with my mother in law. So it could have been a) I have developed an allergy to some cooking product b) I rubbed my eyes with brutal substances like powdered sugar or peanut butter after bursting in tears from exhaustion. c) it is stress related. I went with c and moved on. Then after spending 12 hours in a car with my husband on our way to Missouri my eyes swelled up again, like I had been beaten. It was either a) I have developed an allergy to my new Mary Kay make up b) I rubbed my eyes with hand sanitizer or gasoline after bursting into tears from frustration c) it is stress related. After throwing away about $60 worth of make up because everyone else thinks it is ‘a’ I am positive it is ‘c’ and moved on. Then I awoke yesterday after returning to work from the holidays to even worse swollen eyes and pain. It could have been a) I have redeveloped an allergy to something that will required decades of testing and medication b) I may have rubbed diet Pepsi or dust in my eyes when crying because I had to go back to work after 10 days off, my husband was already complaining he was bored, my ex-sister in law is in the hospital with a liver issue, and the bills are arriving!!! C) it is stress related. I call the doctor once I get to work and get an appointment at lunch time. I race home and have my husband drive me because I have only slits to see through and I am very upset, and of course, I am disrupting his day. The doctor takes one look at them, and explains that I have extremely dry skin around my eyes that is that is cracking and flaking and turning into eczema because I am making it worse my rubbing them, scrubbing them, and stripping the make off with toxic chemicals. He informs me that he sees this a lot in young children because they cannot stop touching their eyes with their hands. Nice. So I take my dirty kindergartener self to the pharmacy get my steroid cream and extra moisturizer and go back to work. Great. It has been a long time since someone called me a filthy little kid, I guess I should be thankful.