I feel alive.
I can tell because two days after a really intense yoga session, I still have trouble raising my arms. Dead people don’t complain about stiff joints. Figured that out myself.
We buried Uncle George yesterday. It was a good funeral. A few tears with even more laughter. Lots of warm memories. Everyone is going to miss him of course, but he was 85.
Uncle George and Auntie Sophie have been around, together in the same house for over 60 years. Water is wet, the sky is blue, and you could always drop in on George & Sophie. So many meals with friends and family around their table. A little slice of Romania in Regina.
It was like that again last night except Uncle George wasn’t with us. Traded zingers with family I hadn’t seen around that table in years. We ate cabbage rolls, cream chicken and mamaliga (corn meal). Later we played Uno and didn’t bother keeping score. It was more important to fill the home with laughter, warmth, and life.
When the time comes for them to plant me, I hope there’s laughter. Life is for living. Funerals are a good way to remember that.