Things have been going really well for me lately.

Dianne gave us her old closet and we are putting a lot of organization into our space.  It's lovely to have one of those closet organizers that rich people have.  Dale actually found my opal and gold ring!

I can't believe that I have a Louis Vuitton purse. It feels so self-honoring to have a luxury item I carry every day.

I have a standing desk at work which is amazing.  I'm getting a lot of evil eye for it but its necessary for my back. 

However, last night while I was praying for Susan's brother, he died.  So today is just so sad.  I feel for her.

My Hair Didn't Have any Tangles

It was April, 1976.  One of my sisters, I can't remember which one, told me that we had to make sure my hair had no tangles in it.  My hair was long and to my waist when I was nine years old.  I was wearing a dress that went just above the knee - a little girl dress.  I think it was blue.  

We were going to see Daddy.  He was dead in the funeral home.  But still, it had been almost a week since I'd seen Daddy and he was my best friend.  I didn't really understand about the dead part except that he was in Heaven with Jesus.  I recall being glad he was with a friend.  And, in my childish mind, I was looking forward to seeing him again.  We drove to the funeral home and after we got there, were ushered into a room while our mother made sure "everything was ready".  Kind of like a hushed, weird birthday party.  We sat there and my older sisters were crying.  We sat there five daughters, unsure what awaited us in the next room.  I fidgeted and was unnerved.  Why couldn't I see him now, please?  The funeral home was playing piped in organ music that we all thought was REALLY creepy.  My mother asked if they could turn it off and they said yes.  

Finally, my mother returned with tears on her cheeks and said we could come see him.  Oddly enough, I remember that we all walked according to our age and subsequently, our height.  I was the last one, being the youngest, and walked by myself.  There was a middle aisle and two smaller aisles on either side with chairs in the middle.  I saw Daddy lying in a casket at the back of the room.  As if on cue, we all started crying but continued walking in that one-behind-the-other, oldest to youngest line.  We didn't walk down the center aisle but on the right side and then waited in line to see Daddy.  Oldest first, next oldest, middle, next middle and then me.  

I was crying mostly because my sisters were and because Daddy wasn't moving.  He was dead (still wasn't really sure what that meant).  It smelled funny in that place even though there were TONS of flowers around his brown wood casket with gold handles on the side.  He was wearing a grey suit and a tie.  He had his eyeglasses on and was lying with his hands as in prayer over his belly.  He wasn't breathing.  I touched his hand and it was cold and hard.  Why was it hard, I wondered?  I peered down unable to see his feet and asked my mother if he was wearing shoes.  She replied, "Does he sleep with shoes on?" and I said no, so that made sense to me.  But I was wondering why half of him was covered up in this box.

Anyway, I looked down at him and he looked just like when he was sleeping.  Standing tiptoe on the prayer stool next to the casket, I reached over as far as I could within the box and hugged him, laying my head over his heart as I always did.  At the time, I couldn't understand why this would cause people to start opening sobbing.  All I wanted to do was hug my Daddy.