We had a wonderful funeral service for Dad. There was a video featuring some of his favorite gospel music backing photos spanning his childhood, through his “Burt Reynolds” years (he was a dead ringer for Reynolds in his younger days) through his “father” years, to his “grandpa” years. The toughest part to watch was a relatively recent video of him describing his conversion to Christianity. We’d been through so much with him at the hospice that it was difficult watching the old dad. Then my brother and one of my nephews spoke and both speeches were eloquent and touching.
After the service, we headed back to my sister’s house for an old-fashioned wake. Complete with a VERY open bar. Oh yes, the booze was flowin’! A folk/country/gospel band was playing and there was a house full of folks telling stories, laughing and singing along with the band. And the grandkids were not quite sure what to make of their less-than-sober parents and aunts and uncles. There was much giggling, whispering and “Holy cow! Look at your mom!” It was a party Dad would have loved.
And since I had clearly not been through enough in the past week, I got to attend the whole shebang on crutches. Before I flew to
Yes, I have now seen a doctor. The verdict is arthritis. Apparently, I seriously aggravated it when I stepped wrong which led to a couple of days on crutches. I’m on anti-inflammatory medication and am hoping to avoid anything more invasive (can you say “needle in knee”?).
I’ve spent the last couple of weeks working on getting back in the swing of normal life. It’s truly amazing how exhausting hanging around a hospice can be. For something that is not physically grueling, it really takes a toll. Tonight is the first work night I haven’t felt like I needed to come home and just vegetate. Tunnel, meet light. Thank goodness!