Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts

A Viewing to Remember



Spring is an amazing season. Flowers bloom, baby animals are born, the world awakens, and…people attend funerals. Yeah, I know that last one is a bummer, but it’s true. I’ve attended at least three funerals in the last eight weeks. A distant relative died, then a small child with leukemia who the community had rallied around, and finally a co-worker. There’s a certain kind of stress to dealing with loss, even if you’re not that close to those who passed. As it happened, I was actually semi-close to the co-worker in a very indirect way, but that’s not why it was stressful. It was stressful because my cousin, whom we’ll call Bonnie, is friends with a really close friend of the co-worker, and that friend, apparently, doesn’t wear rings that fit. 
And thus begins the whole story…
The person who passed away, we’ll call him Joe, was a co-worker of mine, but in a completely different department in another branch in a suburb of our city. In other words, I didn’t know him at all and barely recognized his name. However, one of my colleagues who did his same job and collaborated with him all the time because she traveled from site to site knew him really well and was devastated by the loss. This co-worker, whom we’ll call Lena, wanted to go to the viewing but hates anything death-related and needed emotional support to pay her last respects. I volunteered to go with her because Lena is a lovely soul and because viewings don’t bother me in the least. As it turns out, Lena is also friends with my cousin Bonnie, who also volunteered to go to the viewing as moral support. So Lena and Bonnie and I all end up going to the viewing to pay respects to Joe. Simple enough?
Oh, hardly.
We get to the funeral parlor and everything seems to be going to plan. Lena is weeping with Joe’s wife and children and mother and cousins (he came from a HUGE family) and then shuffles, sobbing, to the casket to view her friend one last time. Bonnie and I hang out on the fringes, both of us being respectful and me interacting with my colleagues who knew Joe to varying degrees when we weren’t reading the cards on the flowers. Finally, Lena heads our way and we’re all ready to leave. We get to my car—I drove—and suddenly Lena lets out a shriek.
“I’ve lost my wedding ring!”
She shouts this in the middle of the parking lot with mourners ambling by, and they all look at her like, “Who cares? Joe’s dead.”
But Bonnie and I cared. We knew, in Lena’s mental state, losing her wedding ring would be tipping point from upset to hysterical, or maybe even wigged completely out. We calmed her down and finally surmised that her ring had been in place up to the point of—you guessed it—viewing Joe.
So Bonnie, being rather fearless and goal-oriented, decided to backtrack and followed Lena’s footsteps from the time she entered the viewing until she left, paying special attention to the part where Bonnie wept over Joe in the casket. Let me just say this at this point that I should have known better than to trust Bonnie.
Because here’s what happened: She gets to the casket and acts mournful in a way that allows her to scope the area around the deceased. As it turns out, Lena, who’d recently lost weight, had put her hand on the side of the casket long enough for the ring in question to drop into the bedding, or whatever you call that stuff on the inside of a casket. Bonnie spots the ring waaaaaay down in the bottom of the bedding, nearly under Joe’s arm. If one more mourner sobs loud enough over the casket, the ring will slide deep into the lining and it will take some digging around to get to it.
As fate would have it, a very large co-worker, Maggie, who is very…large, leaned over the casket sobbing uncontrollably next to Bonnie, and Bonnie watched Lena’s ring take the plunge into the depths of “Your wedding ring is getting buried with a dead guy-ville.”
But you must remember Bonnie is my cousin. And we both grew up with superstitious crazy people who held the belief that if you don’t touch the dead person whose viewing it is, you’ll have dreams about them. So my cousin and I grew up touching a lot of dead people. Therefore, Bonnie has no compunction about retrieving Lena’s ring. However, Bonnie was not raised under a barn, so she knows that digging around in a casket for something might make a few people very uncomfortable and cause a scene. The best way to offset that, Bonnie figured, was to…cause a scene.
So, Bonnie starts wailing and thrashing around the casket and Joe, throwing herself across the body and choking through her tears. People are horrified, and it takes three funeral parlor workers to pull her off Joe.
I know all this because, knowing Bonnie, who promised to get Lena’s ring back “no matter what,” I found myself a window to peak through and see what was going on. It was like driving past a car accident…I couldn’t look away.
By the time the funeral director, a security officer, and two other mourners escorted Bonnie to the parking lot, where she fell dramatically into my arms, the ruse was in full effect. I think, at one point, Bonnie believed her own grief, even though she didn’t even know Joe. All I can say is, "That's my cousin!"
As soon as her grim-faced escorts hustled back into the viewing, Bonnie grinned and held up something shiny. As soon as Lena saw it, she squealed, grabbed it, and gave Bonnie a huge bear hug. Apparently, Bonnie had been digging around for Lena’s ring as she crawled all over Joe under false pretenses, and she finally got it.

We all drove home in silence—Bonnie grinning in triumph, Lena smiling at her ring, and me checking the rearview mirror for the police, because it’s got to be some kind of felony to fake grief to retrieve a wedding ring and grope a a newly deceased person under false pretenses.

Well, that’s my spring so far. How’s yours going? Please do share in the comments.

A Hard Transition

This last couple of weeks brings with it a bit of a transition, one that many of you will identify with. Our last puppy--and by puppy I mean 17-year-old dog--passed away. He was a dear friend, a member of the family...and the last of our familial brood.

After twenty years of living with cats and dogs, I am petless. And it feels somewhat lousy. I was prepared for the empty nest syndrome when my sons left home. I expected it somehow, because, well, I knew it was an end that led to a beginning. I guess I figured that when they left, they'd go off and somehow bring someone back with them, which they did. My sons ran off and found brides and they had children and so now I'm a grandma. So they left and came back exponentially enhanced. Brenuf, however, did not go out and reproduce (we had him neutered, as we did all our animals), so there's no hope of his offspring, gifted with the same soft fur and big grey eyes, showing up at our door demanding hugs and kibble. That kind of sucks.

Brenuf was ready to go, as his good days were far outnumbered by his bad days, and beyond that, he had cancer. I'm happy that he's in a better place, pain-free and romping, no doubt, with his brothers and sisters. However, I miss him. I keep seeing him coming around the corner for his dinner, but there's no one there. I wait for him to settle himself at my feet when I write, only to find empty space beneath my desk. I come home from work and prepare to feed him only to realize we donated all his food to the local animal shelter after he passed.

I'm not ready for another pet, and I don't know if I ever will be. Brenuf was an amazing dog. He was patient and loving and kind, and I can only ever hope to be as humane as he was. How is it that having a loving pet makes us better people? Makes us want to live up to the standards that our beloved fur babies have for us? Is it the unconditional love? The trust? The friendship?

I hate to be a bummer this week, but this is really what's on my mind. I hope that all of your pets are safe and healthy, and I'm sending a prayer for all of them to the heavens. Happy Reading.


An Inspiring Walk

There are things I don't like about spring - at least spring where I live in western New York state. There's snow until like...two days ago - and I wouldn't be surprised if we got more before it's all said and done. And when we don't have snow, we have rain. And mud. Lots of mud. From the melting snow and the cold rain.

But there are elements of spring that I truly enjoy. The first night of the year when I don't have to turn on my electric mattress pad. The first day when I can open the windows and finally get some fresh air in the house. The daffodils which are now just starting to bloom under the front window. The buds forming on the tree branches. In a few more weeks the flowering trees in my back yard will be a beautiful mix of pink and white.

Spring signifies renewal. The earth coming back to life after the winter. That in itself is inspiring. But the walk I took with a friend around the neighborhood this weekend was truly inspiring.

For the first time this year, it was warm enough to walk without a jacket. People were out and about everywhere, walking and jogging (with dogs and without) or picking up the yard or working on their houses. It's a time to reconnect with neighbors after a long period of hibernation. Walking always seems to stimulate my brain as well as my body, the creative juices always flow a little stronger after a walk outdoors.

But none of those things was the real reason I was inspired this weekend when I walked in the spring sunshine with my friend. See, she just got some scary health news a couple days ago. And after crying with fear and ranting at fate, she called me and said, "Let's walk." We talked as we walked, about what she knows for sure and what she fears and what she hopes. We laughed a lot too. And we hugged each other tight.

Whatever the year has in store as spring coaxes the world back to life, bringing color back to the gray and dreary world around us, I hope I can be as strong as she is. See, it's scary for me too. I don't even know if I'll know the right things to say to her, the best things to do for her. All I can do is be there for her. She's mad now at this cancer that's invaded her body and ready to fight like hell.

It doesn't get more inspiring than that.

Natasha
www.natashamoore.com

Friends are Like Books -- You Can Never Have Too Many

Recently I received a wonderful post-Christmas present. A present that will last longer than anything purchased in a retail store or online. Why is this? Because my present came in the form of a friend. A childhood friend I haven’t seen since high-school graduation. She and her lovely family were visiting relatives in our hometown and spending a week, and this gave us plenty of time for catching up on life and happenings over the years. Over coffee and chocolate we revisited lots of happy times and planned future get-togethers. Many laughs and some tears later, goodbyes were said and their plane took off. Good news and great moments come in many ways, but the times spent with friends are priceless and precious and far too few. As my friend is an avid fiction reader, we also chatted about books we’ve read countless times, some often enough we could recite certain passages as though we’d written them. While she’s read volumes of Shakespeare so many times the thought of her “classic” passion makes my head spin, I spoke of my fondness of the writings of Fitzgerald, Harper Lee and Tennessee Williams among others. We agreed those collections of novels are possessions with which we’d never part. After all, we’d read them during times of pregnancy, losses of loved ones, road trips, family vacations—events running the gamut of our girlhood and womanhood. We’d no more lose these books than we’d toss our favorite shoes, handbags, chocolate and coffee out for the trashman. Our books grew right along with us and often lifted us from sorrow or transported us to a more comfortable place when the world around us closed in at an alarming pace.

Friendship is a topic I explore in many of the forty-seven manuscripts I’ve written. In my romantic suspense novel, ROUGHRIDER, Kimberly Taylor seeks out her childhood friend and returns to a town where she hopes to slay some sexual demons. Jack Dodson is a former rodeo champion who’s shifted into a more stable lifestyle and is co-managing a ranch in Texas. He prefers a bit of solitude while Kimberly’s seeking sexual adventures.

Rabid curiosity clashes with criminal minds and escalates the drama in a small town where love and loyalties are harder won than any rodeo trophies.

Roughrider Medium cover



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Wishing you all many happy reading moments,

Shawna Moore
TORMENTED -- Ellora's Cave (MUST READ from Dark Angel Reviews)
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Coming in 2009 to Ellora's Cave

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