On the eve of the funeral


I don’t remember the drive to Spokane at all.

I remember bits and and pieces of the week between Doug’s death and  funeral.

I remember being  in shock and walking around in a foggy daze.

I remember a grandmother asking about my Thanksgiving at story-time.  I didn’t know how to answer. She said hers was, “interesting.” I agreed. Mine was too. Those were all the details I could muster.

I remember being very focused on cutting up nametages for story-time.

I remember leaving early to go home and my coworker chastising me about not knowing  where I had been,  (I was in my office cutting nametags).

I remember running around town figuring out the food for the funeral.

I remember my mom wanting to serve potato salad (of all things).

I remember going to see New Moon, the latest Twilight installment, and having a good, much needed, laugh.

But I don’t remember the 6 hour drive to Spokane the day before the funeral.

Wait. Yes I do. The one thing I remember about that drive were the frozen waterfalls all along the Gorge. All of them frozen. Even Multnomah Falls.