Thank you for your messages. I don’t get many comments these days but I know I still have a lot of readers and you’re all such friends, whether I’ve met you or not.
I was talking things through with LT yesterday – it’s Dodo’s funeral next week and it’s on the one free day I have, 250 miles away. I’d have to drive down in the morning, drive back to Tim and stay overnight, then come back first thing…and I can’t quite bring myself to do it. But I nearly did, I felt guilty. Because Wink can’t go as she’s on holiday and it’s all booked, and because Dodo was our mother’s oldest friend, Wink’s godmother and we all dearly loved her. However, I went to see her at Christmastime and that matters more. So I’ll write to her nephew and arrange to meet him for lunch in the Spring, so that we retain a connection, because he is almost family, really.
Tim asked, the other day, if I were familiar with Archy and Mehitabel, by Don Marquis – yes, I am, though I haven’t read the book (books? I only read one) for quite a few years. Archy was a cockroach, who couldn’t manage the Caps key, so all that he wrote was in lower case, and Mehitabel was an alley cat. And I mention it because Dodo, who was a keen reader, had – to the end of her days – a copy of the book by her sofa.
It’s not that I’m fragile these days, I am not and that’s because of friends and family and Tim, who comes in both categories and one of his own, and because I’m a tough old broad, as my dear Dutch friend Irene used to say. But I’m a bit sensitive. So if that makes me sentimental, I’m not usually and you’re just going to have to forgive me. Sorry…ish. I’d like to be at Dodo’s funeral but – it seems – not quite enough to make my life difficult. I don’t know what to make of this, but I’ll just say it. All the same, I visited her last month and Wink went to see her after that, and I’m still pretty sure that’s what matters.
Don’t beat yourself up. You’ll be there in spirit and you saw her before she died – when she knew you were there and appreciated you. That’s what counts. When she was glad to see you and you knew you were saying goodbye.
I’m sure you’ll send flowers (or whatever is appropriate in this case).
You said it for me, AQ!
First, what allotmentqueen and LT said.
Second, after Chris died, there seemed to be a long period where my social life consisted of funerals.
At one, where we all stood in glorious sunshine, in tragic circumstances, I realised that unless it was somebody very close, I was going to give myself a break from other folks vale of tears.
You were visitor to your mother’s friend and sister/s godmother, and saw her whenever possible. I am sure that your visit to her when you were able to talk to her, rather than one where you spoke about her was the one she preferred.
She knew you loved and cared and that’s all that matters.
Here in Northern Ireland there’s a huge emphasis on going to funerals, even of people you barely knew. But it’s always seemed to me that the important thing is not a ritualistic ceremony but having fond memories of the person. And as you say, you saw her at Christmas time.
Of course it’s what matters. You made the effort to go and see her while she was still able to appreciate it, as I’m sure she did.
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