ninanevermore

Since I wrote about Kellie last week - her life, death, and funeral – I have been carrying around a burden that I have to unload. A lot of people expressed sorrow over my loss, and it seemed ungracious not to thank them for their sympathy. To set the record straight, Kellie was the wife of an old friend. I admired her a lot, and I feel a lot of sympathy for her husband and children. I have a confession to make, though – I didn't like her very much. Admiration and affection are not the same.

( Time goes by and friendships fade, but a grudge can last beyond the grave. )

I drove by the Carney yesterday at dusk to see what he was up to.

Standing next to him at his gate was a beautiful, slender woman that I recognized as the wife of a childhood friend of mine. Her dark brown hair fell across her shoulders. She was showing the Carney a photograph, pointing to it and smiling the way parents do when they show off pictures of their children. Her son is 7, her daughter is 3. The Carney pointed to a car on the Ferris Wheel as it moved up toward the sky away from where they stood, and the woman waved to it. Her face looked wistful as her children's car moved away from her because they are still destined to live and grow. When it was gone from her sight, she turned away from the Wheel and the Carney and stepped through the gate, where she disappeared into the evening air.

The last anyone saw of her face, part of it was missing, as was her dark hair. I hear she was startling to look at, to put it mildly. But when I saw her last night she was as beautiful as ever.

Watching her there, I realized that I have a funeral to go to this week.

( The baby's eyes are red from weeping / Its little heart is filled with pain / Oh Daddy, it cried, they're taking Mama / Away from us on the evening train... )