It was a quiet, sleepy weekend here on the Couch of the Aged. Hattie slept a lot, Bob wandered the house occasionally and cried for Ernie before coming back to the couch. I napped yesterday afternoon and this afternoon and while I may not sleep tonight, it felt good. I poked around on the computer a bit and paid some bills and tried to figure out why the IRS online and the IRS on paper seem to say different things about our taxes.

Ernie is definitely better. He has started making a lot of bad jokes and being goofy but then again he just sat down on the couch and vomited so there you go. We go see Vasireddy tomorrow to check on his blood levels.

Yesterday was a hard day for me, harder than I expected. It was Eileen’s memorial service and I was really sad not to be there even though I know that was the right decision for us. My beloved Pat Dailey had even offered to drive down and get us. So kind. Several friends went, for which I was really grateful. I was pretty much doing ok until Jeanne texted me and said they were letting people take a piece from Eileen’s collection of little buildings. That, well, man, that just gutted me. Not that people were taking them—I loved that. It was seeing the picture of them….SO familiar. I can’t begin to tell you how many flea markets, antique shops and junk stores we went to together and seeing them just brought that all back.

When we both lived in Rogers Park we used to walk over to Clark Street where there were two diner-breakfast kind of places with neon signs and a bunch of second hand stores, some leaning toward vintage or antique and some just plain resale shops. I can remember getting a late breakfast and then wandering those shops. All long gone, of course. There were days spent at the Kane County Flea Market too, eventually the Sandwich Market as well. Oh, hell, and even the Nashville show when they had the tailgates (do they still do that?). We found lots of little buildings, monuments and her favorite Lady of Liberty together over the years.

I’ll admit that the picture of those really made me cry. Eventually I wore myself down to sniffs and requested that we got watch Australian Masterchef for a bit. Later I went up to bed early. As I went up, Ernie said, “Don’t be afraid to be sad.” So, I wasn’t.


One thought on ““Don’t be afraid to be sad”