#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Wet Wood, Rocky Narrows in the rain

“When my life is over and I have gone away
I'm gonna leave this big ol' world and the trouble and the pain
If I get to Heaven, I will not stay
I'll turn myself around again and fall down as the rain. . .”

~Excerpt from Joe Crookston, “Fall Down As The Rain”

I woke and asked Frank, who had just woken, “What time is it?” “9:45,” he said. “What?” I made him show me the clock, and still I didn’t believe him. How could we have slept so late? Outside the rain fell in a gloomy downpour. I did what I do. I headed out into it. My daughter and her boyfriend energetically joined me. The raindrops rattled the river into a cauldron. It was a roiling and somehow pleasant, and necessary drenching. We took our time and went the long way. Charlie soaked and drenched. Not back til almost noon. And then, all the hurry and preparations for the 4:00 p.m. Memorial Service we were leading on Zoom in my husband’s office. Practicing, planning, setting the stage: flowers and candles and choreography. It kept raining. We dressed. I wore the gray wool dress that I wore for my father’s memorial service. Frank put on his button down shirt and blazer. The girls did makeup and hair and lovely outfits. And then I made a cake: an applesauce cake in a bundt pan. Because how can we have a memorial service without a cake? I left it baking and my daughter’s boyfriend tending the timer. As the service progressed the house filled with the aroma of spices: cinnamon, cloves and allspice. My son joined from his home nearby. Our dear friend Marty opened the service, led the prayer. Frank gave the eulogy. Perri introduced a song she and Frank and I fell in love with in Sarasota at Fogartyville recently when we went to a live concert of Joe Crookston’s. He told the story that the nuns who care for Thich nhat hanh had written him to say it was a favorite. I felt the presence and comfort of family and friends who attended via zoom. We didn’t give her the service she planned, with an open casket and her church band. We gave her the service we made in her honor, the one we could give. All of my children spoke. My son played the flute. My daughter showed the video she had made. So many guests had a chance to share stories and thoughts. When it was over, the cake was done. I felt as though I had been out of the house in a sacred place. It was time to eat and talk it all over. Quickly, helped by my daughter’s boyfriend, I made the homemade pizzas and salad, and packaged up another door dash delivery for my son and his girlfriend, and they came to the door, grabbed their food, returned home, and then we ate by the fire in the living room while they joined us again on Zoom by video. And then we ate cake.

Land, Perri, Grammy B.L, & Frances