months after the fact, death still sneaks up on you.
out of the blue, say around the holidays, you're jolted by the realization that important events in your life will never happen again.
today my wife was sorting through the mail, looking at the grocery inserts for thanksgiving. it reminded her, she said, that she would never again be able to go home for thanksgiving.
she's right, in a way. without joan, there's no one to carry on the tradition. other family members could cook the turkey, but no one makes sliders the way joan did. her dad could act as host, but no one could make you feel at home the way joan did. the wine would still flow, the conversation would range far and wide...but no one would bring people together the way joan did.
it would be comforting if we could find some things that would, somehow, be the same.
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