Oh Natalie, you intuitive beast genius you.
The memory that is coming to mind is the story of my family – my honey, my kid, and myself being ever so slightly late – yet still late to a funeral or celebration of life I believe they were calling it.
Everyone was seated in the pews and one large carved wooden door was left ajar for the latecomers – upon cracking the door open enough for us to fit through – it turned out – unfortunately for us, and our egos – that we were the latest of the latecomers – if there had even been any before us.
All eyes were on us. A seated sea of eyes – some disappointed, some shocked, some pissed and most just sort of blankly hazed and cast in our direction.
It was Hanne’s service. My late stepdad’s first wife. They had had two daughters together – with their husbands and two kids a piece – one with two sons, one with two daughters.
We were late because my kiddo said he had good pants to wear but was wearing sweatpants with the button-down shirt I got him. I decided that wasn’t good enough so we b-lined it to Old Navy to get some khaki drawstrings he might wear again.
After the service, we apologized and shared our condolences with our families-in-law… I remember wondering why everyone seemed so cold and stand-off-ish to us…
I mean, being a bit late can’t be punishable for an eternity, right?
I later learned… like years later – my mom let it slip in a random conversation… that she is the one who invited us to her late husband’s ex-wife’s service.
where rivers are born 