(This is a picture of my father with my grandparents in the forties, before I was born.)
(And this is a photo of my parents, Wanda and Cope, and my aunt and uncle, probably taken during the sixties.)
While I was still with family in California because of Uncle Cope’s death, my long time friend Marcy died. She was an amazing woman who somehow managed to live with lung cancer for five years. You can read about her grace and courage here. Her memorial service occurred on the day I flew home from California, so I was unable to attend, and that saddens me. But a few weeks ago, I had a deep and meaningful conversation with Marcy. That hour with her was such a gift, and I am grateful.
Here's Marcy, in April or May of this year.
This summer has also brought a couple of situations that tear at my heart. I’ve prayed my way through a lot of dark days.
Still, life is good. Dr. Lobo and I just completed another year of marriage, marking forty-three years together, and most days I feel lucky to have him. (And the other days? Well, let’s just call them interesting. I’ve never been bored with the man.) I’m healthy, and in a couple of weeks I’ll celebrate another year of life—a year that has been mostly very good. I’ve lost some people who were treasures in my life, but I’m surrounded by friends and family members who amuse me, comfort me, and love me beyond anything I deserve. And although some situations are presently causing pain, I know I’ll get through them. During the years I raised my children, whenever they went through difficult stages, I would tell myself “This, too, shall pass.” And it always did.
Even summer’s hottest, stickiest, most miserable days don’t last forever. Until my life becomes more comfortable, I’ll spend time in front of the air conditioner, drink my Diet Dr. Pepper with plenty of ice, and look forward to days when living will be easier than it is now.