Kind of dawned on me as Sue, who edits and puts the Airborne Press books together, and I were emailing back and forth that we are the final stages of a book, much like the final stages of one's life. And, in a sense, a book, in this case a journal, "Our Rose," is definitely a birth. Sue and I always have such interesting conversations:
Her Comments: "You talked about medical people not attending the service. It was interesting--my mom's oncologist didn't come (well, we didn't invite him either, I guess) but sent the nicest letter saying what a wonderful person she was. Also, her regular doc, whom she hadn't seen very long and who wasn't really involved once she moved to the nursing home because they had their own doc, sort of snuck in one night and left a really nice note on her chart. The hospice nurse made a copy of it for me."
From me: Sue, good idea, send to me now. I'm struggling to stay with it. Then I can call you with it. I'n hand. Would be helpful.
Great picture board for your Dad. You can feel good that you did everything to honor both your Mom and Dad. Humorous story about little old lady. Here's what I wonder: having memorial or whatever might call it becomes painful and reminds older people of their own deaths. Not all but some. When our friend Victoria died, her few friends had already died mostly and so we chose to have a gathering with her old military friends (they went to lunch, etc, widows of military or some connection) and let all remember her (might have told you this). Jackie also paid the tuition for her main nurse who was so loving and gentle, to finish her nurses training. I pass Victoria's old building constantly and salute it and have the grandkids doing it everytime we pass when they are with me.
I like the recycled soul thing. And, of course, who knows. Now that I'm thinking about it, I think my dad's soul was recycled into Rachael's James Raz. I think I told you, for the first six months of his life, he cried all the time and then it was like he woke up one morning, looked around and thought, "wow, this is a good gig" and since then he is the sweetest and most pleasant little guy. Just turned three.
I loved that picture board. I saved a copy. I think I told you, trying to talk John and Art, this coffee shop where I hang out to have a wall collage. This is perfect for them. Did you put it together? Great.
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