My friend Annie died this week. No one calls her Annie any more, just Ann. But I always remember the 3, 4 year old girl I used to babysit. She was blond then, the 5th child in a family we knew a zillion years ago when we lived in Berlin. My dad worked with their dad and our moms liked each other. They both were named Ann. The boys were younger; my brother's age. Only a couple years younger than I -- we all played together. We traded comics, practiced musical instruments, rode bikes, and trick-or-treated. One boy/man and I still talk and trade memories occasionally.
Sometimes I would babysit the little girls.
Everyone is coming for the memorial this weekend. Just three hours away, it's at the same church where Ann married Amy during the short time it was legal to do such a thing in California. That is so sweet and romantic.
I'm not going.
I just can't. I'm not going to any funerals or memorials ever again. There's no way. I just can't.
I went to so many (and didn't go to some) during the 'year that 5 women of my family and one friend' died. I'm still reeling from that. Sometime I refer to it as "the year everybody died". It comes down to that the funerals didn't help them; obviously ... funerals are for the living. Well, they didn't help me at all. So I'm done.
I'm trying to think what I can do -- it would be interesting to see the family again. but .... I'm not going. I'll wait until one of the kids marries and celebrate with everyone then.
Now I have to go. Condolence cards need to be written. That I can do.
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