Cathiesue, Shelbydog, and Kyzmette may remember me mentioning the wonderful custodian we have at school. I was knitting her a hat and scarf at the sale in Tahlequa; you know, the day we sat around a single-burner camping stove and filled our faces with hot chocolate and danishes. Mary passed away Tuesday morning. She is survived by her husband and six children. Her funeral was this morning. Near the end of the service, our principal testified to Mary's generous and loving nature. He spoke eloquently and made me proud to be a part of his school family.
I think I'm almost cried out, which is why I'm making this post. Before, I couldn't even think about her, much less write or talk about her, without flooding a room with tears. I chose not to walk past her casket today because I have an image in my head (and in my heart) that I don't want replaced. When she came into my classroom at the end of each day, we'd share family stories and often laughed at how similar our stories were. Once, after I told Mary about a conversation with my DH, she got a serious look on her face and said, "Coral, I think we're both married to the same man." Mary was ten years my junior. I didn't know that until today. I always thought were were within a year of each other, which tells me that I thought of her in terms of our similarities rather than our differences.
Both granddaughters sat quietly during the service. The youngest fell asleep on my lap, and the oldest fell asleep against my side. We came home, had lunch, fed the leftovers to the chickens, and visited with the dogs. I'm worn out. DH wants us to go to mass tonight instead of tomorrow morning. I think I'd rather make more pasta and sit with the chickens. Twenty more minutes and I need to start changing diapers so we can put everyone back into the car. I vote for more pasta. Right now I think more pasta (for the chickens) would be more soothing to my soul.
I think I'm almost cried out, which is why I'm making this post. Before, I couldn't even think about her, much less write or talk about her, without flooding a room with tears. I chose not to walk past her casket today because I have an image in my head (and in my heart) that I don't want replaced. When she came into my classroom at the end of each day, we'd share family stories and often laughed at how similar our stories were. Once, after I told Mary about a conversation with my DH, she got a serious look on her face and said, "Coral, I think we're both married to the same man." Mary was ten years my junior. I didn't know that until today. I always thought were were within a year of each other, which tells me that I thought of her in terms of our similarities rather than our differences.
Both granddaughters sat quietly during the service. The youngest fell asleep on my lap, and the oldest fell asleep against my side. We came home, had lunch, fed the leftovers to the chickens, and visited with the dogs. I'm worn out. DH wants us to go to mass tonight instead of tomorrow morning. I think I'd rather make more pasta and sit with the chickens. Twenty more minutes and I need to start changing diapers so we can put everyone back into the car. I vote for more pasta. Right now I think more pasta (for the chickens) would be more soothing to my soul.
