A high school friend’s husband died Saturday night. It stinks.
I didn’t know him well, and I’d only seen my friend a few times in the last ten years.
They’d been married for three months.
And it just stinks.
That is such an inadequate word, but I don’t know what else to say.
This week I had nightmares about friends dying.
I went to the visitation last night. It was good to see my friend, to see that she is surviving despite the senseless tragedy that has entered her life. The nightmares stopped.
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| Photo courtesy of Paul Nicholson |
And I got to see a baby. Another friend had a baby a month ago, and she and her baby were at the visitation as well. She joked that she was the encore receiving line…..nothing like a peaceful, sleeping baby at a visitation.
I saw some other high school friends there. One told me about her job as a television reporter. When I asked for whom she reported, she named some local affiliates.
My reply? “Oh! I’m sorry, I don’t watch TV.”
Yes, friends, I was THAT person, that hipster snob who “doesn’t watch TV.”
What I really meant was, “I can’t believe I didn’t know that! I am uninformed politically and kinda scattered right now, so I tend to miss obvious facts.”
But I’m worried I worded that the wrong way.
Sigh.
So it’s been a weird week. And before I could come here and talk about baby carriers or boots, I needed to write about this. Because sometimes terrible, crazy things happen, and I just don’t understand.
