Flowers on Sunday for Certain

This week brought more than its share of shocks and abrupt reversals.  And grief.  My old friend and neighbor died on Tuesday night, finally escaping the grasp of frontotemporal dementia, that robbed her family of her bright spirit and boundless energy.  As sad as I am, she is free.  We used to have so much FUN.

One time, you called me after I had left you a message about something infuriating and unjust that happened at work.  You said, with complete dignity and composure, “What did those mean people do to you?”  And I didn’t stop laughing for at least a minute.  I’m laughing right now, just remembering it.

As soon as I heard your voice, I knew everything was going to be ok.  I didn’t need to know what to do, because I didn’t need to do anything.  Someone else in this world understood my worries, and believed that I would be ok.

I can’t make you laugh as hard as you made me – because we don’t want you to rupture anything.  But I know there is not one thing in this world that can cloud your brilliant, shining star.  You make everything better, better, better.  And if those mean people can’t tell the difference, well then – Bless Their Hearts.

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