Christmas shopping all done!

I went to the United States this past weekend. With the Canadian dollar doing so well, I had to go. There were bargains to be had, and I needed to get away. So, with two friends, and one new one I met, we jumped into a large SUV and drove to Maine. We immediately stopped to shop in Calais, and then on to Bangor. We then stopped to shop and then finally went to our hotel. (We had our priorities right) and then went out to eat. It was wonderful to eat at different restaurants, and shop at different stores.
So we shopped, ate, slept (a bit) , and in the morning did it all over again. Then the next day did it all over again. By the time we left the US, we had filled the SUV to capacity, packed in some extra stuff, and paid our GST on the stuff we had over our limit.
It was midnight when I got home, and though I would prefer to leave earlier, I had a terrific time. I needed time with the girls, needed to do a bit of research for an upcoming book, and needed new clothes, and Christmas presents.
Now I need some sleep.

everything is supposed to get back to normal

After this past week, my brother in law's funeral, our lives are supposed to get back to normal. It's hard. And yet, you can see the coping skills of each of us. My father in law deals with difficulties by diving into doing mindless, but necessary tasks. My mother in law by keeping the rest of her family close, and my husband by keeping busy and not thinking too much of it.
And so our lives go on. This week, our local newspaper published his death notice, complete with the picture from the funeral bulletin, (not the best photo of him, I thought) and it was hard to read it. Timmy had always picked up the paper for his mother, and my husband had just bought her a year's subscription, so now she has to go to the post office box to get it herself. That's going to hurt.
And driving by the barber shop bothers me too. It was always full of life and busy, and now the homemade sign I scribbled out there on the night he died is still there.
Now his son has no place to hang out. His son's mother asked us to keep their boy always included in family activities, but lately, they've been a bit sombre.
And in the midst of this, my writing continues. I'm wondering if my prose will have a sombre tone as well. Time will tell and time will heal.

a terrible loss

This week we have lost a family member. My husband's brother passed away. He'd been sick, but it never fully prepares you for death. I feel as though I've been in a fog all week. And I ache when I think of the young sons he left behind, and his parents, who hurt so badly. We got to bring home a flower arrangement and the house is filled with its scents, bringing me back to the funeral home and memorial service.
All I could do was just pour my emotions into my writing. It seemed like a balm, though I wasn't necessarily writing about him, or family or anything. I just wrote. It helped.
Today I had to get up in church and thank all our church members for their prayers, the food they provided, and the pastor for officiating a difficult memorial service. My brother in law didn't attend church, and our pastor didn't know him well, which makes for a difficult service all round.
Seeing my in laws, especially my mother in law, and my nephews suffering, just broke my heart. What can anyone do? I lost my parents early in my life and can remember getting mad at the people around me at my mother's funeral. I'd lost the most important person in my life at that time. I hated it. All I could say this past week was that I understood. But it's never enough, and would understand it if I got snapped at back with the words, "you don't!"
All I can do is hope that time will help to heal them. I wish they would come to church and see how much it can help, but it's not easy to convince them that it really does help.

Welcome!

I changed my email address, and now I can't get at my old post! Never mind. I've been too busy to deal with that anyway.
With the kids back to school, and myself having a deadline, I haven't put too much into any but writing. But last night, I got to attend a dinner theatre where it was literally a mix of live acting and taped characters. And the story was wonderful.
The theatre group is called Seedlings and they are missionaries of sorts, but the story they told was fabulous and what I want to tell about today. It's called The Prodigal Missionary. A prodigal son type gets marooned on an island near Fiji, and the only way off the island is on a drug runner's boat. But those same drug runners are killing the children of those who saved our hero's life. At a crossroads, our hero is forced to face his past, deal with the present, and find the strength to look forward to the future.

Live theatre is tough enough, but this crew deal with interaction with videotaped performances, not to mention setting up and tearing down their huge sets everyday!