I went to the funeral home and visited with George's wife and her brother and sister-in-law and her daughter and the grandson and granddaughter for a good while. I was so glad to be able to hear stories about him, especially from the grandkids (one of whom in is in the Army now, all uniformed up and good-looking, the other one, I think, in high school, beautiful with mermaid green hair) who lit up like Christmas trees when certain things were mentioned like camping with their grandparents and the way George had painted their rooms. That was beautiful.
I went to the Monticello Winn Dixie where I heard a man speaking to a friend and he was telling her that he prays for her and her husband every morning at 4 a.m. sharp and that they should wake up filled with the spirit of the Holy Ghost and also that he said the husband's cancer was gone, was NO MORE and he swore this in the name of Jesus.
I admit, I lingered in the aisle to listen. The man was so full of belief. I am not telling this to make fun of the man or in the spirit of disdain but just to report what I heard, to relate how strongly some people believe. His face shone with it. The woman did not seem so convinced but she hugged him and thanked him graciously. When I went to check out I found myself behind the Jesus man and I hoped with all of my heart that he would not turn to me and begin to ask me questions about my being-saved status. I pretended to be fascinated by the Enquirer article about Bruce Jenner's cross-dressing. It was fairly interesting and he did not say anything although he did smile broadly at me.
I made Mr. Moon a bunch of cookies to take and I have bread rising for our supper and I am filled, not with Jesus or the Holy Ghost but with a ghost of sadness. I am not sure I have ever felt this honestly afraid of how much I'm going to miss him. I mean, sure, I've always missed him when he's gone but it's also like being in the Woman's Hut for one, you know. Eat what I want to eat, get up when I want to get up, read in bed for as long as I like at night, have way less than half the laundry to do, etc.
Those things don't seem so important to me this year. I am not exactly afraid of being lonely. I am usually pretty good at being alone. It is just a sense of not wanting him that far away from me. How can I take care of him if he's in Canada? This is so silly. He's quite capable of taking care of himself, just as I am, for ten days at least. But still. It's how I feel. And so I made the cookies which was silly.
Every year we are together I realize with more sharpness how much he means to me. How very precious he is. And I am sure that George's sudden death brought that even more into focus.
Well. We could have gone to the fair tonight with Lily and Jason and the boys but we both felt mixed emotions on that one. There are parts of the fair I do love. The agricultural exhibits, the county exhibits, the 4-H exhibits. But the huge numbers of people, the chaos, the smell of frying sugary dough- all of these things are more than I want to deal with tonight and so Lily and Jason will take their sons alone this year and that will be sweet for them too. And we will stay here and Mr. Moon can finish his packing and I will make him poached eggs on homemade bread and I am not going to cry because, well, maybe I'll cry a little.
Every time we let someone into our heart with intense love, whether it's a friend or a child or a spouse, we take the risk that our hearts will be broken, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot.
I am not good at risk-taking but I am cursed with the blessing of having so many people I love in my heart.
All right. I'm through talking about this.
Have sweet dreams, y'all.