Yesterday morning I buried a woman I have known my entire life. I was just talking to her a week or so ago. Every time I saw her in recent years, she always said I was going to take care of her when she died. I had a hard time dealing with that thought intellectually, because losing someone you've know your entire life doesn't seem real. Now it does.
She was 89 years old, which means she was about my age when I first met her as a very young boy. Her and her husband lived right next door along with their two daughters, who are about 13-15 years older than me, so they were not around very long before they went to college, and it has been many years since I've seen them.
The girls came in to make the funeral arrangements. We talked about their mom for quite a while. It was difficult switching between the grieving friend and funeral director roles, but I somehow got through it. When they left, they both gave me a big tearful hug and said they were grateful to be among friends.
It just so happens that many of her relatives, nieces, nephews, bothers, etc., lived in our neighborhood as well, so I know the whole extended family very well. It was both a wonderful and sad experience at the same time.
