Tuesday afternoon and we have just returned from a grocery run. I sat down at the keyboard after helping put away the groceries. Tammy is still thrilled about the fact that I go to the grocery with her. What can I say? I love to be with her, where ever we are going. There are times that the pains in my back prohibit me from going everywhere with her, but it is rarely a 'don't want to go' choice. Her Ex would never go, but accuse her of taking enough time at the grocery to bang the bagboys in a backroom orgy-fest, while she was gone. I guess that just isn't my style.
Allow me, if ya will (like ya have a choice) to switch gears here.
The funeral was yesterday. My friend and Aunt Lydias pastor, B. E. (Buddy) Puckett , did a great job with the service. I sang, as did Mom, Sue Roe, and Jackie Puckett (Buddy's wife). After the service was concluded, we were invited to make one last procession by the casket for a final goodbye. It was difficult to see her lying there. I am used to seeing the fire in her blue eyes. She had the sweetest smile and the fiercest gaze and knew how to use both.
When Tommy was killed earlier this summer, the kids wailed loudly and threw chairs off the porch, as expressions of grief. They had trouble walking. They were very expressive of their grief. I am not saying that it is the wrong way to grieve. It isn't a 'my way is right and yours is wrong' or 'my way is wrong and yours is right' kinda thing. It is just a style thing.
When I was younger, with Dad being pastor, he had to temper his responses. He had to be the strong one. When everyone else was falling to pieces around him, he had to keep it together. Grief was a private thing to him. It is a learned response, I guess. I am very expressive in my writing. My poetry drips with emotion. It is where I pour the expressions that I temper. That is just my style.
So, if you are the loud lamenter, please, loudly lament. If you are the quiet reflector, please, quietly reflect. Whatever your style, do that. Well, unless your style is to cause pain and suffering for others.
I started to say, It goes without saying. Why is it we preface some things with that? If it goes without saying, don't say it.
Anyway ... That is about it for this afternoon. I am sure that I will be around later. I'll keep an eye out for ya.
Allow me, if ya will (like ya have a choice) to switch gears here.
The funeral was yesterday. My friend and Aunt Lydias pastor, B. E. (Buddy) Puckett , did a great job with the service. I sang, as did Mom, Sue Roe, and Jackie Puckett (Buddy's wife). After the service was concluded, we were invited to make one last procession by the casket for a final goodbye. It was difficult to see her lying there. I am used to seeing the fire in her blue eyes. She had the sweetest smile and the fiercest gaze and knew how to use both.
When Tommy was killed earlier this summer, the kids wailed loudly and threw chairs off the porch, as expressions of grief. They had trouble walking. They were very expressive of their grief. I am not saying that it is the wrong way to grieve. It isn't a 'my way is right and yours is wrong' or 'my way is wrong and yours is right' kinda thing. It is just a style thing.
When I was younger, with Dad being pastor, he had to temper his responses. He had to be the strong one. When everyone else was falling to pieces around him, he had to keep it together. Grief was a private thing to him. It is a learned response, I guess. I am very expressive in my writing. My poetry drips with emotion. It is where I pour the expressions that I temper. That is just my style.
So, if you are the loud lamenter, please, loudly lament. If you are the quiet reflector, please, quietly reflect. Whatever your style, do that. Well, unless your style is to cause pain and suffering for others.
I started to say, It goes without saying. Why is it we preface some things with that? If it goes without saying, don't say it.
Anyway ... That is about it for this afternoon. I am sure that I will be around later. I'll keep an eye out for ya.
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