Winter First Moon of the New Year
Back from Marian Wolfe’s funeral in Riverfalls, Wisconsin. Several good lines in the service. Her dentist, a child reared with her children, said Marian called him to cancel a teeth cleaning a couple of weeks after she was diagnosed with cancer, “I enjoy my visits to your office, Bob, but in this situation having my teeth cleaned doesn’t make sense.”
Her minister visited her a couple of days after her diagnosis, came in and asked her how she was doing, “Well, Chris,” she said, “I’m dying.”
Described by more than one person as a force of nature, a woman friend said Marian was the only person she knew who could breathe and talk at the same time.
Another funeral where I wish I’d met the person before hand.
Tom, Paul, Frank, Bill, Regina and Scott were there.
We’ve turned a new corner in the Woolly Mammoths, but we’re not sure what it is just yet. I think it has to do with facing the last earthly pilgrimage, the one that ends in death. It is no longer abstract for us, that pilgrimage has begun to overtake many of our other daily activities. Necessary, yes. Upsetting. Often. How will it effect our future together? Unknown.
