I left my heart...
in San Francisco. This time, for real.
Margaret's final resting place is lovely, and quite close to my parents.
The priest said all the right things, and I was comforted by his words, and by her family and friends.
My friend Judy took great care of me. The night of the funeral, we went to dinner and, at the request of Margaret's ex husband...
set a place for Margaret, with her favorite drink at it.
We toured around SF the next day, quietly remembering times with Margaret.
We also remembered Jane, who was a friend of Margaret, Judy and mine, and who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge when she was 20.
I'm back home now, and had hoped to feel some peace after the funeral, but it's not working out that way. I should know by now that grief is unpredictable, and takes its own time.
My heartfelt thanks to everyone who wrote words of comfort on my last post.
I appreciate all of you.