My godmother Jean Craigen died last week. I have not been close to my godparents since I’ve been in high school, but my mother has been. I have a tremendous amount of respect for them both, and feel very sorry for Pat — I just don’t know what he’ll do without her. Jean was perhaps the nicest lady in the world and had a distinctive voice and cadence that I always adored. I would have missed work and traveled to the funeral Tuesday, but mom said if I could make my own peace with Jean’s death, then coming to provide support might be futile — I’d be lost in the sea of her admirers. I hope to make a more meaningful visit to Pat later this year, and I’m glad she was well-remembered and loved.
Several other people have died…
My great aunt Babe passed away recently. I was very angry with my father’s side of the family for not bothering to notify me about it until weeks later. She was one of the more colorful relatives on that side of the family and lived here in Seattle. I most certainly would have attended the wake had I known.
My neighbor down the street died after a long battle with cancer. We’d met “cancer man” shortly after we moved here after an unfortunate incident with our dog Ouzo. We got into a bit of a fight with him that we deeply regretted, and he did too. We saw him again a couple of days later and both sides apologized profusely. I can’t imagine I would have cared as much had the same occurrance happened in Seattle, esp. in our old neighborhood. I felt like that incident signaled that the change of moving from Seattle to Vashon was much bigger than a zip code. I’ve spent lots of time chatting with Mark and Mary at the bus stop with their kids since.
Friday I got the opportunity to make a salad for a potluck dinner provided by our neighbors for the many visitors and extended family in town for Mark’s funeral service. I was glad to get the opportunity to do something — we didn’t attend the service. Funny isn’t it that I actually gave something to basically strangers, but for the family deaths I only sent cards.