DRAINED
All week I’ve been dreading attending the funeral of my friend, Carol. How do you reconcile the death of someone your own age when there is so much still to DO, so much planned, so many years of experience still to come? When you know that person didn’t want to go, wasn’t ready to go, and went in such a blindingly fast and unjust way? Maybe no one is ever REALLY ready to go, but I suspect that when you’re 90 it’s easier to accept than when you’re half that. The weather today was changeable. It kept changing. It rained...