wake

But, Maggie,

If we climb out of the swamp, we will be naked. We won't have anything to hide in anymore!

I suppose that is part of the courage I am seeking, or eluding - depending on the day.

It is a spiritualist village.  And we're on...a whole bunch of us!

We were jovial at the funeral.  But there were tears, too.  We ran the gamut of emotion. And it was appropriate. It was human. It was humane.  It was Irish. A wake is a celebration of a life.  To celebrate, you need all emotions. We did that well.

We knew he was going to die. We knew he was starting to feel weak and in pain much of the time.  He made it as long as he could with a decent quality of life. If he would have lived longer, it would have been more and more painful.  He got out good!!

But we were also relieved because the pain weighing us down from that side of the family lifted.  Fear of his anger controlled me.  His withheld acceptance and love influenced me, drove me.  In the end, it drove me away - that is how I found peace. But it drove me.

Secrets silenced us, and though we are not talking, not sharing now, we are freer.

I think there is always a sense of joy at a funeral, down deep, maybe; but it is there.  It's like a birth in reverse.  He is free. He is somewhere new. He has learned the great secret - what is on the other side? But also we are jovial, because we brushed death, by being related to someone who passed. It touched us. But it wasn't our turn, it didn't take us.

Today is a hard day. It is a day, when looking out the window, promises spring. But upon walking out the door, you are whipped with cold winds.  Betrayal. Betrayal at 14 degrees!!

I am garden dreaming...

Gotta start tracking down my kids. Mama wants a headcount of who is coming in May...

Love and hugs from Clare