Skip to main content

Optimist, Pessimist, Life, Death, Life

Saturday, and it’s raining. I’m eating dry Cheerios with raisins because I haven’t any milk. A hurricane is once again approaching, and the naming system is so worn out, all it can generate is Beta. RBG is dead, as are 198,000 Americans from COVID-19. I made a pot of white rice so I will have something to eat until my husband the cook reunites with me. Next week, I go to my mother’s memorial service in North Carolina, 4 months after she died.


My foot is healing from the (second) steroid shot. If it continues, and works, I might be able to wear something other than the tennis shoes I’ve been restricted to for a year. The virus positivity rate in New Orleans is dropping like a rock. The orchid my church gave me 5 1/2 years ago is still alive and blooming. A male Cardinal just lit on my windowsill in all his red glory. Next week, I will get to see my beloved siblings to whom I’ve only grown closer over the years. The dog is eating.

Focusing on the positive doesn’t come naturally to me, but it comes easily when I remember to do it.


This post is one week old. It’s another Saturday, but it’s not raining. I’ve been traveling for 4 days and have one more to go before I arrive back home. The food has been better than dry Cheerios, but I’ll be glad when I return to NOLA with its surfeit of great takeout within walking distance (my husband’s walking distance; he cooks the food; he secures the food; he keeps us alive every day). No storms are forming in the Gulf. RGB is still dead.

My foot isn’t healed, but it became a mere irritation when, right after drafting this post, I hurt my back so bad I couldn’t stand up (before you ask, I was bending over to read a can of beans–in other words, nothing.) For 24 hours, I was certain I could not get in a car and drive to North Carolina for Mother’s service. Time ticked. I healed a bit. I got drugs. I grogged into the car and made it.

Here we are at the memorial service. We look like the trailer for a new Netflix movie. My niece said, The Distanced Mourners: a documentary. The pitch is: blended family gathers in a pandemic to mourn beloved mother four months after death, and…all turns out well.

The family mourning
Saying goodbye to my mother, Virginia Van Hecke. You can read about her fabulous life HERE

Comments (10)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *