Friday, January 9, 2009

WHEN THE SAINTS GO MARCHING IN

This last post needed a title.  We sang many choruses of Eric's favorite WHEN THE SAINTS GO MARCHING IN.  That's what I wanted to add.
My brother-in-law died and the memorial service in Silver Spring, to which we went, happened over the weekend.  My sister died last year (after proclaiming to me she would not know "what to do" if Eric died before she did)   I miss them both terribly.  I am moved to tears in any small silence (as when the tv is turned off or the radio I go to sleep by has parted from the headset.) I almost do not enjoy my leftover Christmas candy or my favorite Greek yoghurt. And I am slower than ever in completing even so small a task as getting my coffee cup from the dining room table to the kitchen.  
My parents assured me that departed loved ones were at peace.  My parents never told me how long  I would not be at peace, missing the departed.

Your newest granddaughter is beautiful, Jill. (I have a picture of Jill holding her -- Bonnie - the day before she died.) And your other grandkids and their parents.  There's a wonderful picture on the front cover of Eric's memorial service program of Eric got up as Santa, featuring his real-life flowing white hair and beard.  There is a picture on the back cover of a younger Eric in his aerospace communications satellites days