Today was the funeral of my former co-worker's husband, a man my age whose shocking, sudden death left a stunned wife and confused five year old twins behind. Thank God they both came from big close-knit families, she will have solid family support. I went to the funeral from the office, and stood in line to offer condolences, and what can you say except, "Oh my God, I"m so sorry." Everything else is crap, don't even bother. She seemed so glad to see me and hugged me very hard, told me I looked beautiful, and said "We'll have to talk." I've already sent her my phone # in a card, telling her to call me when she needs to scream and rant at someone who knows what it feels like. Not that I really know what she's going through - my husband's death was the end of a surreal nightmare, and a relief and a blessing when it finally came. This guy was healthy and felled by, apparently, a hidden health problem. But I know what it feels like to be thrust into Widow World (where it seems everybody else is a sweet little retired lady with grandkids who goes on cruises and plays cards) and thinking "How the hell can this have happened?"

The funeral was lovely, if such a thing can be said of a funeral for a man who died about 40 years too early. The priest was wonderful, his homily was so heartfelt and totally free of cliches like "God always has a reason," and blah blah blah. I've never understood that line of "comfort" - if God had a reason for torturing and killing my husband, He damn well owes me one major explanation and it better be good. Here's my take on this subject: The human body is a frail and imperfect vessel. We like to pretend we're immortal just as we are, but our bodies are just finite things that aren't meant to be around for the long haul, and sometimes Shit Happens. But I digress.... Anyway, this priest knew the family and knew this guy well, and his homily was warm and upbeat and focused on the truth that really matters - we like to pretend we're in charge but we're not, what matters most is to live your life with love and joy, appreciate that you are a child of God, and enjoy every day. It was warm and thought provoking, and comforting and very Catholic in its theology and focus.

At the end a family member spoke a lovely and heartfelt and funny tribute, full of "mundane" things that, when in this context, truly showed the beauty of a life well lived. He said one thing that truly resonated with me - that he no longer has the same fear of death, because R went on ahead of him and will be there to greet him and fill him in on everything. It made everybody chuckle a bit, but it's true. I feel the same way.

Enough of that. I'm out of town on business the next couple of days, I'm bringing Bardot and something mindless like the body of the eyelet cardie for when I'm too tired to focus, or my hands are too document-production-dry to handle Cashmerino. I might post in the morning, but otherwise don't expect to hear from me until Friday night or Saturday, since my employer has not seen fit yet to issue me a laptop.