I'm in Houston. I came with Claude to an Antique Lure Collector show and trade thing. I brought my sewing machine with me and some projects to work on.
As soon as we got to town, I saw on Facebook where an old friend from high school's father had died and his funeral was today. I couldn't believe it. What are the chances I would be here on this very day? I just had to go. I didn't come prepared. I had only planned to sit in the room and sew. At a time like this, it's not about what you are wearing, so jeans or no jeans, I went to the funeral. It was so nice to see Rick and his beautiful loving family.
I couldn't stay long. Just being there and seeing him dredged up some strong emotions, about him and about my past and about other funerals I have attended. After I left, I felt guilty for running away. But then again, when it comes to Rick, that's what I have always done.
When I left there, I drove through the old neighborhood to see where we lived back then. It's been 35 years since I've seen the old house and yet, it looks the same. The rest of the neighborhood has grown up so much that I almost wouldn't have recognized it.
What a trip down memory lane. I thought back to those times and it is funny how little I really remember about them. It was a really tough time for me and I think I have probably blocked out a lot of it, but not the good bits, like Rick.
Lots of reflecting.