Unforgettable
Well, I've been having so much fun on everybody else's blog I've neglected my own.
It's been kind of boring anyway. Monday's post was prophetic - work was insane all week and I'm still trying to recover. Friday night was the start of football season, and evidently no one realized this until Thursday. I'm still not sure if the log I programmed for tomorrow is going to work.
Zach is back from Iraq! I got the phone call this morning - I wish I could be there to see him. Hopefully he'll get to come for a visit soon.
We went to a funeral yesterday. It was the first funeral I'd ever been to of a murder victim.
A little background:
When I was 14, I was make-out buddies with a guy who was one of a group of friends who all hung out together in an empty, wooded lot across the street from my best friend's house. They were older - from 17 to early 20's - and they'd all known each other since they were little. My current husband was in this crowd and that's how we met.
Anyway, Jeff and I broke up. I ended up with Rob, but remained friends with Jeff and his beautiful girlfriend, Barbie.
They were heavy partyers, but ended up getting married after Barbie got pregnant. I was 16 by then and Barbie was the first pregnant person close to my age that I'd been around. It scared the hell out of me. Obviously it didn't scare me enough.
We stayed friends for a few years, but some people lose touch after a while, and that's how it was with us. They kept drinking and partying and ended up divorced. The last time I saw Barbie was when their second son, Sean, was a baby. The last time I saw Jeff was in an episode of Cops a few years later. He was getting thrown to the ground and handcuffed for kidnapping his own children.
Well, Jeff's mom was a wonderful Englishwoman. She met his dad when he was stationed in England during the early 50's. They married and she moved back to the States with him. In 1962, Jeff's dad died. His mom was left to raise three small children alone. She never re-married. She went to secretarial school, raised her kids the best way she could, and had fun while she did it.
She loved life, her kids, her grandkids, fishing, and traveling.
Her grandson, Sean, shot her several times in the head last week, stole her car and credit cards, and cruised to Florida. He's still there, waiting to be expedited back to Houston for her murder. He didn't make it to the funeral.
There was a slideshow of her life yesterday at the service. She was a gorgeous young woman. Black and white pictures couldn't hide the mischief in her eyes. Her spark and verve seemed as real as if she were standing right there with us. The years rolled by with every click of the slideshow. She got a little older and a little heavier, but in every photo she sparkled like a diamond.
Every smiling picture was bittersweet, because we all knew how that wonderful life would end. But she didn't.
In the final analysis, it took me an hour to decide what to wear to her funeral, Jeff didn't remember me at all, (is that a testament to my forgettableness? Or the affects of long term drug abuse on the human mind?), and Barbie looked like a 60 year-old bar queen.
And none of that will matter when it's our slideshow up on the screen.
It's been kind of boring anyway. Monday's post was prophetic - work was insane all week and I'm still trying to recover. Friday night was the start of football season, and evidently no one realized this until Thursday. I'm still not sure if the log I programmed for tomorrow is going to work.
Zach is back from Iraq! I got the phone call this morning - I wish I could be there to see him. Hopefully he'll get to come for a visit soon.
We went to a funeral yesterday. It was the first funeral I'd ever been to of a murder victim.
A little background:
When I was 14, I was make-out buddies with a guy who was one of a group of friends who all hung out together in an empty, wooded lot across the street from my best friend's house. They were older - from 17 to early 20's - and they'd all known each other since they were little. My current husband was in this crowd and that's how we met.
Anyway, Jeff and I broke up. I ended up with Rob, but remained friends with Jeff and his beautiful girlfriend, Barbie.
They were heavy partyers, but ended up getting married after Barbie got pregnant. I was 16 by then and Barbie was the first pregnant person close to my age that I'd been around. It scared the hell out of me. Obviously it didn't scare me enough.
We stayed friends for a few years, but some people lose touch after a while, and that's how it was with us. They kept drinking and partying and ended up divorced. The last time I saw Barbie was when their second son, Sean, was a baby. The last time I saw Jeff was in an episode of Cops a few years later. He was getting thrown to the ground and handcuffed for kidnapping his own children.
Well, Jeff's mom was a wonderful Englishwoman. She met his dad when he was stationed in England during the early 50's. They married and she moved back to the States with him. In 1962, Jeff's dad died. His mom was left to raise three small children alone. She never re-married. She went to secretarial school, raised her kids the best way she could, and had fun while she did it.
She loved life, her kids, her grandkids, fishing, and traveling.
Her grandson, Sean, shot her several times in the head last week, stole her car and credit cards, and cruised to Florida. He's still there, waiting to be expedited back to Houston for her murder. He didn't make it to the funeral.
There was a slideshow of her life yesterday at the service. She was a gorgeous young woman. Black and white pictures couldn't hide the mischief in her eyes. Her spark and verve seemed as real as if she were standing right there with us. The years rolled by with every click of the slideshow. She got a little older and a little heavier, but in every photo she sparkled like a diamond.
Every smiling picture was bittersweet, because we all knew how that wonderful life would end. But she didn't.
In the final analysis, it took me an hour to decide what to wear to her funeral, Jeff didn't remember me at all, (is that a testament to my forgettableness? Or the affects of long term drug abuse on the human mind?), and Barbie looked like a 60 year-old bar queen.
And none of that will matter when it's our slideshow up on the screen.
posted by Cas at 2:18 PM
1 Comments:
Well, I for one will never forget you!!! You are to awesome to forget! The drugs will definitely do that to someone. I am sorry that you had to go to that kind of funeral. Especially since you the woman. It is always hard to see someone you know after they pass, but much harder when you know that it was at someone else's hands.
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