Sunday, April 13, 2014
A primary reason for the recent sisters gathering in Atlanta was a bittersweet goodbye. Pam had decided to sell the house she and Cullen had lived in for most of their marriage. A sign that she is ready to move on after nearly five years there on her own since his death. She wanted Martine and me to be there with her to help her fill the house with love and good Karma and to ease her into the next phase of her life. I don't know what y'all do in your family, but we throw a Viking funeral. Or at least our facsimile of one. Having a creek bordering your property is a nice touch. Throw in some origami arks, fire, and a beer. Heartfelt words were said. Tears were shed. I came away with a sense of completion and healing. Funerals are, after all, for the comfort of the living. Two days later, we awoke to torrential rain that continued through much of the day. The creek was swollen with the runoff, almost unrecognizable compared to Saturday's lazy, flowing rivulet where we had set the tiny boats afloat. As if to help move Cullen's spirit along to the next realm. Movement is good. Sometimes all you need is a little push to get away from the shore.