So dear Betster, you wanted me to blog again.
This week you were tucked into your final bed. We got together to celebrate your life and to mourn your passing.
You would have enjoyed it. Lots of folks were there that you had spoken of, people you hadn't seen in years. They came to pay their respects. The flowers Bea picked out for you were lovely. Your dear and faithful brother looked handsome in his suit. Some of your photographs and your crocheting were on display. A little bit of you distributed around the room.
Your friend denH gave a comforting and compelling message. He told us that you had selected the texts 10 years earlier. "All of us are hampered by our own thorns in our sides but received in Grace". Yup. Your dear friend BJ played the organ, just as you wished. Me, I wore your amber earrings and a bright blue shirt that you would've liked. I picked up tulips because that's what I always brought you. I brought those little Costco brownies that you liked for the coffee social after the internment.
I got my haircut last week. I couldn't tell you this time. I didn't hear my cell phone ping at me for months. No more inane little emailed conversations ten times a day. No more heart to hearts. No more rants and chuckles. I watched you fail. Bit by painful bit. Legs became useless. I watched the narcotics take your sharp and witty mind away. I told you it was okay, that it was all good and that stepping through that final door would be the best thing you ever did. I wish you could tell me about it. Now you are dancing in His light. I wish you could tell me about it.
Instead we watched you be lowered into the ground into a bare spot in the middle of the snow.
Into the dirt.
I don't think I understood how large a chunk of my heart that you had. I know that you loved me,
my dear, four score and one friend. You told me often enough.
Your tulips are on my table on the cloth that you made for me. Dancing in the daylight.
Tot Morgen Deo Volante dearest Betster.
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