I am still too sick to go to a funeral. I was hoping to get to go. Still coughing and dealing with issues at both ends. My ribs do not hurt as much when I cough.
I am thankful to be home, to have access to clean clothing, wet wipes, a washer and dryer, and clean, fresh water. I don't know how Bob slept last night with my coughing. He said he had trouble breathing. I think, running the furnace means dry air, which dries out noses and throats. I bet I got up a dozen times. Tongue all swollen.
When we came home after Thanksgiving, one of the emails gave us the sad news of Juanita Martin's passing. She died early Thanksgiving morning. So, in essence, she got to celebrate Thanksgiving with her Savior. She was such a sweet, kind lady. She and her sister mastered facebook and email to keep up with their kids and grandkids. And I so feel for Janey, her sister, as Janey said that Juanita was her best friend. They came to church and Sunday School together. Juanita would ask about our grandkids. She knew, that grandkids are the best gift.
I never met her grandkids. I am sure many speak today. And I will miss that. You learn so much about people at funerals. Things they might have told you in life, but sweet stories.
Years ago, I would have gutted it out, armed myself with cough drops, and sat in the back. But, no.
I did make it to Walmart yesterday. Got the birdseed, but have not yet loaded it. Bob volunteered last night, but I can do it today.
We are low on bread, so I need to venture out. But, I am feeling sorry for myself. I cannot show respect to a kind lady, and am no help to my daughter-in-law, Lauren until I get over this cough.
And talking on the phone makes me cough. Time to throw another load into the washer. We live like kings and queens. Warm house, chairs, bright sunshine. We are so blessed.
My Dad and Mother sent me an email talking about how forty years ago, they moved to Houston, and now the last of their children have moved away. (my brother Bill and his wife are off to Florida on some venture---that is all I know, as email questions go unanswered)
Forty years ago, I was a sophomore in high school, and moved from Illinois where I was born, to Houston, Texas. Houston is where I would graduate from high school, learn to drive, work for an orthodontist, attend church---where I met my husband.
Thirty years ago, we moved into this house because our newborn needed a yard! We are still in this house where we raised three boys, and the last has flown the nest.
Twenty years ago, my sister's first husband died on Thanksgiving Day. Their son, almost five, is now serving in Afghanistan trying to keep morale up as they go about daily patrols.
Ten years ago would have been just months after 9/11. We would have been deep into all things college and high school band.