My friend Antony is taking a week off for Holy Week. For a moment I considered joining him, then thought, in horror, of what I would do with all these Holy Week feelings I have. I could write them in my diary, I suppose. I could tell them to Nguyen. Or God. But I feel them bubbling up to the surface and they get bigger as they come closer to the skin. Like my friend in the previous post. (Could I be having sympathy bustin' out I wonder?)
I feel like my deepest self is gurgling up towards the surface and it is a little exciting and a little scary because it can be so big and I imagine the only possible way to cope would be to throw myself on the floor of my church and weep. Or write about it.
And then there are the funerals. Two of them this week.
This morning my childhood dentist died. He was an old friend of my parents. He has been battling cancer for 10 years. Al leaves his wife, Jane, who is one of my mother's dear friends. My mom has asked if I will bring her to he funeral.
And tomorrow I am going to the funeral of another friend. He was a regular at my friend Michelle's several-times-a-year potluck parties. We have known Bruno for probably 15 years or so, celebrating all the important moments with him and his dear wife Isabel.
They are all in my prayers tonight.