Okay, I know it's been said by many others. With honors to Forrest Gump, my life lately has been like a box of chocolates, not knowing what I'm going to get.
Vacation was great. Restful, relaxing. Coming home meant facing a full schedule: the start of the fall season book fairs began. Then three out-of-state relatives here visiting at the same time for nine days. A husband's birthday. A child's birthday. And in the middle, a death in the family. Yesterday, it all ended, and I could barely move off the couch, exhausted from the emotional and physical bombardment.
Today was better. I had a busy, fun book fair day that continues tomorrow, to end the week in a productive mode. Yet my thoughts were of family.
The death was expected and yet, not. The person was important and meaningful in my life -- he was the father of my three children, a former husband -- and a loss that is a first for me.
Funerals and weddings were always the gathering place in my family when I was growing up. My four siblings and I didn't mind the funerals very much, because it gave us a chance to see our jillion cousins (...I came from a large family...), play in the basement of the funeral home, and eat lots of good food at one of our many aunts' homes after the service.
This week was not hard, but not easy. My children have lost their father. I had to close the door on a part of my life. In the process, I reconnected with many friends from long ago. Some I hadn't seen in 20 years. A few pounds heavier, dozens of hair shafts barer, with wrinkled faces, they smiled when they saw me. It felt great, despite everyone's grief.
Suffice it to say, death comes to us all. Some times are better than others. Selling books and staging book fairs had to wait. Life was more important this past week.
I'm back on track, a day at a time.
