The viewing is over. It was okay. Better than okay, in fact. My mother looked good -- not real, like she looked, but how she'd have looked if she was trying to impersonate the Queen of England. But as I told people, that picture of her -- that was her, and seeing it made me happy. My family and friends had a good time, there was a lot of laughter, and every so often I'd go over just to talk to the woman who looked like my mother -- knowing that the person who was my mother, in the picture, could hear it.
I'm glad. And now we have people at the house, which is goodness, too.
4 comments:
Sounds like you are getting through this process well.
Surprisingly well. I think that the fact that my mother didn't look like 'my mother', whereas the picture on the board did, helped. Sort of a Dorian Gray approach.
Let's see how we do when my wife reads her piece about my mother, at the mass, today.
I offer my condolences to you; I didn't know your mother but I hear your love for her in your words.
Why, thank you, farmer! That's very, very kind of you.
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