Today has been kind of a rough day. I'm kind of glad that by tomorrow, today will be over. That's the great thing about time, it heals all wounds and will just pass all by itself, without any effort on my part.
Lately, things that take effort have been on my low priority list.
Today I attended the funeral of my next-door neighbor, George. It was very sad, not so much because I had a close relationship with him but rather because I didn't. In many ways, I felt bad because I didn't feel worse. (I suppose that this is the kind of statement that makes people think I'm cold-hearted.) The truth is that I have a very open heart, and tend to feel things very deeply.
Upon reflection, the main thing that I remember about the funeral is the cloying smell of funeral flowers. Immediately on entering the area where the service was held, the stench of death infused my nose. For me, death smells like yellow flowers. I hereby declare a frigging ban on yellow flowers. I don't know why they ever picked yellow to be the traditional color of funeral flowers. In fact, I actually Googled that today to try to figure it out with no results. In any event, no more daffodils or freaking lilies for me on this PAD project. For awhile, I had forgotten how much I abhor and detest the sight or smell of a yellow flower. Today. the fact that I hate yellow flowers with a passion beyond reason has been freshly re-instilled in my psyche.
Kiki says the only reason I hate yellow flowers again is because they remind me of my Dad's funeral. She's right.
After the whole flower debacle, the other thing I remember is that there was a young girl in a very short black mini-skirt. with a slit up her right thigh so high that I was sure she couldn't have been wearing underwear. In front of the casket they had the Catholic bench thingy where you could kneel and pray, and I recall that when she went to pay her final respects I was sooooo afraid she would bend over and give a right show of her buttocks. All the old men in the place leaned forward in anticipation, and all I could think of was "Please, God, don't let her bend over or else all these old fogeys will surely have a stroke and we'll be right back here again next week."
Wouldn't you know she stood straight and tall, and next weekend I'll probably be playing tennis...which is a good thing.
Anyhow, I titled this picture "Through You" because at the time I took it, I had asked Troy to give me his best "death stare." This was the closest he could come. He doesn't look particularly mean, I know, but the facial expression closely captures my mood today.
(c) 2006 by A1275
