the useful thing about grief is how it shucks our decorum clean off and drops us on each other's doorsteps, these shelled, skinny, honest things. i was thinking about this last week, how vulnerable and themselves everyone was at the funeral, and also how i've somehow won the family lottery because even when--or really especially when--they're laid bare, i am awfully fond of these people.
brother nate (it's a hobby of mine to make him sound vaguely franciscan) shouldered my bags to the car, and he'd been up to that sort of business all week: working in the background of every scene, quietly carrying and assisting and arranging travel details. he's a good one, that nate.
and then there's my cousin's wife, who made sure no one cried alone. my mom and aunt and uncles, transparent and generous in their sadness. my aunt kay, whose laugh jumpstarts the rest of us. cousin keith, who preached that funeral with so much hope. the mister's parents, logging a good five hours on the road to show up and hug us.
they're so much goodness that i don't even the tiniest bit deserve, but i am totally not giving them back. :)
also speaking to me: the easiest fruit dip ever. we were recently gifted with a couple jars of nutella, which is already Beautiful Stuff in its own right, but if you introduce your glob of nutella to your glob of greek yogurt and let them mingle a bit, you arrive at a marginally healthier take on Wonderful.
and that is pretty much all i've got for you right now. 'tis true, i'm hosting a tropical storm of weighty, swirly stuff in this heart-o-mine, but mostly it's half baked and too early to share. but soon.
have a beautiful thursday, my dears. thanks for sticking with me.