The day was supposed to be devoted to editing, sorting out a faulty pool filter, repairing a collapsed bird feeder, a bit of writing, and taking more steps towards making the move into the main house feasible.
Well, the bird feeder did get managed. Also an entirely unsuccessful dismantling and reassembly of the filter.
Other things of greater import got in the way of the rest. A friend whose husband is overseas called in the morning for a long chat, and in the afternoon a next-door neighbour came visiting to unburden herself of the worries attached to her 64-year-old husband in hospital being stabilised, and the need to break the news to him, after he had responded to treatment, that he had Stage 4 cancer and a life expectancy of about six months. She took a positive slant and we talked about relatives with a similar prognosis who had lived for many years thereafter – or were still living after five years.
This positivism was shattered later on in the afternoon, when she interrupted conversation to take a call – informing her that her husband had, in fact, just died in hospital.
Of course, she stayed on, and shared dinner with us after she had control of her emotions. Little J was particularly sweet to her and said she could be a second mommy – the couple were childless. My 4-year-old granddaughter often displays an extraordinary sensitivity and charm.
Media vita in morte sumus — in the midst of life we are in death.