Wee One (WO) has been talking about Jesus and God more, and it’s putting a lump in my throat. It’s a good thing, in my mind, because I wanted to teach her about them, and she’s learning.
When she and I hear emergency sirens, I always comment, “Ooh. Someone’s having a bad day. We should say a prayer for them” (Thanks, parochial school.)
The other day, she heard a siren and commented that someone was having a bad day. I agreed, and she said, “Mommy, tell God.” (LOL)
I think I’ve told you guys about the period of time I was a door canvasser with a political action group. I’d spend five hours a day knocking on doors, and follow it with a couple of hours of drinking. Crash somewhere, maybe home. Repeat. It was a lot of fun for awhile.
Playing drums in a rooftop jam session. The guy bending over, Andy, ODed a few years later. Livin’ life.
During this time, spending every day with hippies and slackers, when people asked how we were we would say noncommittally, “Oh, ya know. Livin’ life.” Which meant we weren’t doing shit.
Rather unexpectedly, my father-in-law, with whom I have been living for the past year, passed away Saturday night. Time has been sort of weird since then. We thought we had a little more time with him, but don’t we always think that? Or hope that?
There is a Hallmark show, When Calls The Heart, I started watching in Seattle that I pretty much only got into because my girl friends did, but I stayed with it because I liked it and I could watch it in front of my Wee One without worrying about what she saw or heard.
This past Tuesday, during the presidential election when everyone thought Hillary would win, scores of voters covered Susan B. Anthony’s gravestone with “I Voted” stickers. The woman’s suffrage activist (I mean, suffrage for white women; not true suffrage) obviously believed women should and could vote, but could she have imagined voting for a woman president?
This is a weekly post I do to highlight blogs or bloggers who have inspired me in some way during this week. I’m a little late finding posts for this, as my grandmother passed away last Friday and we were dealing with that this week. In the small amount of time, however, I did find something:
Is there anything like a funeral to put you in a contemplative mood? We buried my grandmother yesterday, and it’s kind of been a little hard for the past few days as we held the wake and the funeral.
Grandma had a complicated relationship with all three of her daughters and then, by extension, me. She could be a bitch on wheels and she drank way too much, which is probably why she could be so loose and cruel with her tongue. Then I remember my last phone call with her and how sweet it was. So that makes me think about love and different ways of showing it.
My grandma’s dying. Not just in the sense that we’re all dying, but she’s ready to go now. She’s signed her DNR papers. She’s getting a last communion tonight. All her daughters are with her right now. I had called my mom for details and was kind of regretting not being there to see grandma before she goes, and mom offered to let me talk to her. I felt a surge of sad gratefulness that I could talk to her again. But what would I say?