Gray Is The Color

Last night the words "Lynn died today" came into my mind and suddenly, all the gold dust and exuberance that Lynn's flying showered upon me is gone, or at least I'm not feeling it. I feel old and tired and sick myself, but I know it's just the grief.

After my friend Sue died, years ago, I probably spent a month in front of the TV watching infomercials. That seemed to be the only thing I was capable of. Couldn't even read and for me that's like saying I couldn't eat, which didn't come easy either, thinking back.

But I have to get off my ass. I'm having the memorial party here on Saturday and looking around, I realize my house is not fit for humans. And the weather is supposed to be cold and wet on Saturday so being outside won't really work, not that outside looks too good right now anyway. Things are brown. Brown and stick-like, which looks like I feel, but not appropriate to celebrating a joyful life. My youngest daughter did comment that perhaps this is a good thing because at least people won't be stepping in all the dog poop out there. She's a Pollyanna sort of girl and I don't know where she got that. Not from me and that's for sure.

So anway, I should be cleaning, tidying, and going out to buy flowers and candles and rum and making banana bread and carrot cake and creating altars and dancing to the Beatles.
Yeah. I should. But no, I'm not.

But I'm going to do what I can and forget the rest. I sort of hate to think about people coming to my house and thinking I didn't even try and that I'm a lousy housekeeper and so forth, but I also keep thinking about something one of my kids said she heard recently which was "It's not my business what others think of me," which is good advice in many a situation, this one included. It's not about the house or the yard but about the purpose of the party which is to celebrate a life which brings us back to my original thoughts- Lynn's life is gone and dammit, I'm just sad.