You see, it was on that date in 2003 that our Mother was laid to rest at Greenwood Cemetery. If that weren't bad enough, later in the day, while guests mingled at our home following the funeral, the phone rang with news from Bruce's brother Cris, that their Father had just died. I know, hard to imagine isn't it?
As if you needed further evidence that I married an extraordinary man, early on that Saturday morning Bruce began to fret that perhaps the funeral home was not carrying out Mom's wish to be buried with a Calla Lily. Because her diagnosis of Stage 4 ovarian cancer came in late June, she had plenty of time to make her wishes for her eventual death clearly known, including having an Elvis song played at the church! I don't think I ever knew exactly what significance the lily had for her; just the same, that's what she wanted and in Bruce's mind, that is what she should get. Thus, he went to check, discovering that indeed they had not followed through. It was a closed casket funeral, so if not for his diligence, we would never have known otherwise. Placing the lily on her hands himself, he was the last family member to see our Mother's body.
And then, barely eight hours later, the phone call came with the news that, although not entirely unexpected, was certainly untimely. Bob, my father-in-law, had knee replacement surgery early in the summer. Things went wrong, terribly wrong. The details are gruesome; suffice it to say that he spent nearly all of the next six months in various hospitals trying to beat the MRSA that invaded his body. No amount of $1,000/day antibiotic could make it go away. To make matters worse, his Mom spent nearly all of that time by his side, however, she made an exception by coming to Mom's funeral. She was not there when he took his last breath which I've no doubt was doubly heartbreaking for her. Bruce was taking Matt to the airport for his return flight to Atlanta when the call came in. It broke my heart to have to tell him the news. He then rushed up to the hospital, well I say rushed, but, maybe he took his time to collect his thoughts. I stayed home with the remaining guests. Really, by then, there was no hurry. Three days later we cried our way through another funeral.
I need not tell you how rough that time was for us. The specific details of the day grow dimmer with time, however, some will never go away. Even for a memory challenged gal such as I!
Moving on to more pleasant topics, but before I do, this author did an excellent job of writing about bed wetting. Although our paths are different, her descriptions of what it feels like to be a teenage bed wetter rang very true. I'll tackle that topic on another day!
Baxter got a much needed haircut the other afternoon. Our groomer comes to the house with a trailer every six weeks or so. Normally I am either not here, or don't check it out, but this time I did and was pleased that he was being a good little doggie.
I must say I'm pretty pleased with how my Christmas plans are coming together. I sat down the other evening to write Christmas cards
I took the above photo by placing my camera on the buffet and setting the self timer. I had to find room to do so because Mr. Bruce made this little display which takes up most of the room.
Friday, Bruce took an earlier flight home, arriving in the early afternoon. Over the phone I'd mentioned how much Baxter loves to walk at Cypress Grove Park so he suggested we head over there. No problem from me! He decided to take his fishing pole along to try his luck in Lake Jessamine. A man and his dog:
Once Harris returned we went over to see their beautiful new home on Lake Davis. Harris claimed I said "Wow" about a 100 times and he might just be right. Seven bathrooms! Elevator! Fake grass!
I'm home today, skipping the Winter Garden market because my darling is traveling next week-- not two, not three, not four, but FIVE days. I couldn't bear to leave him.
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