John's Funeral

It was so warm and cozy in my bed, under the duvet.  I just wanted to stay there.  Glenn is in his room, swearing mightily at a basketball game--I'm temped to remind him that it's just a game, but I've been telling him that for 34 years and it hasn't sunk in yet.  Secretly, it makes me smile.
It isn't my son that got me out from under the covers.  There are so many thoughts, rumbling around in my head, and they need to come out.
I got up very early, for me, today. Ate my breakfast, washed my hair, put on real clothes (that would be nylons, a dress, and heels as opposed to sweats), filled my tank--well, my car's tank--and headed south for the San Jose Masonic Center and John Fletcher's funeral.  I didn't get as early a start as I wanted, but God was looking after me.  The traffic was very light and the drive down was beautiful.  I got there about half an hour before it was due to start and squeezed into the last sort of parking space.  People were pouring in, many of whom I recognized, many I didn't.  When I got into the lodge room, the red room, the sidelines were already full.  Bless her heart, Lynn Gentry popped up and gave me her seat nest to her mother.
I am so proud to be a member of the Eastern Star and a part of the Masonic Family.  There were people from all over the state there.  Everyone loved John.  And for some reason, many of them also love me.  I don't get out to much that isn't connected to a doctor appointment, especially not two days after chemo.  But I had to join my Sisters and Brothers to say good bye to this fine gentleman.  People were pleased to see me, told me how good I look.  I've never really looked sick, even the first year with no hair.
The people kept coming in and the men kept adding chairs.  Don Snyder was playing the piano.  It was finally time for the Masons to come in.  Loyal Stark conducted the service, Ken Negel was the Chaplain, and Dave Skipworth was the Marshal.  They looked regal.  And the Masons.  They just kept coming.  We had lots of Masons at Lee's service, but nothing like this.  The service was beautiful.  The room was filled with love.  I was tired, but it was worth the effort.  I stayed at the Center while many went to the interment, chatting with friends, drinking lemonade, and eating cookies.  I had a chance to give Karen a hug before I left.  It was a long drive home, but once again, the traffic was light and the day was still lovely.  I was very happy to see my freeway exit.  I took a long nap, got up, had something to eat, watched the end of Fiddler on the Roof, and crawled under the duvet--and that's where we came in.  There are still thoughts rumbling around in my head.  Some of them have made it onto this blog.  I didn't expect to outlive you, john Fletcher.  Rest in peace.
xxooxx