I've experienced a Sunday like this before. Lovely, quiet, great afternoon for a long nap.
Which is sort of strange, because it was announced at church that Mim died on Friday.
The phone hasn't rung with calls from my friends or Mim's.
There were two e-mails with tender words & memories of Mim - and both of them arrived before 10:00 a.m.
No knock on the door.
We are forever grateful for the friends who invited us to join them yesterday for a July 4th barbeque (they have a grand perch for watching the B.A. fireworks). We declined, instead taking a short R&R run up to Bethlehem to visit with an older friend who, as we expected, offered a wonderful refuge after the storm of the last ten days. But it meant the world that they had asked. This morning she set off for a glorious 2-week vaca with her sister. (About as "O Be Joyful!" as it gets!)
For the various friends at church who gave tender hugs & shared sweet words.
For the priceless hug from a nephew-of-the-heart who scooped me into his arms & made me feel incredibly whole.
Other than that - pretty quiet here at Squirrel Haven.
It's a somewhat quieter repeat of when Mom died back in 2001. Friends coming over with two HUGE bottles of wine - one red, one white - crackers & cheese & other nibblings. When I asked why, they answered - "For all the people who will come."
That took me by surprise. Looking around the living room at the six friends & the two Murpharts, I said, "I think this is going to be about it." They protested mightly. Turned out I was right. Six friends came by on the day Mom died, another Sunday. And that was okay. I didn't expect anything different.
Am letting myself be intrigued at the utter lack of phone calls or e-mails from folks who just heard today. My sister died. Now, to me - as it was to her - that is a matter for rejoicing. Her body had turned against her so very many years ago. And we had the sort of funky relationship that allows me to not feel a gnawing sense of grief - hey, I was raised with remarkable teachings about the afterlife, that we are to "Fear not" when it comes to death.
But most people don't know that. It takes me aback there's no ringing phone, no e-mails. Aback, but not really surprised. Just a gentle sense of deja vu.
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