7 p.m.

Just making supper now. Busy day. Went to the funeral for a lady in Margo, someone I've known all my life. Seeing the death announcement in the post office on Thursday was like a punch in the stomach. I drove down the street in tears after that. It's not that I knew her well; it's that I know how her kids are feeling.

Or maybe I don't. Their mom died suddenly, a heart attack. The shock of that must be a lot different. We had lots of time to bid our mom goodbye. Not that we really did, or I didn't, for I never believed she'd really go, not till she went into a coma. I held out hope for a miraculous recovery right till the last days.

The funeral was at the same little church where we held Mom's. It wouldn't have been too rough except that I can't keep my composure the moment I see anyone else weeping. Sheesh.

Afterward we all went to the hall for a lunch of sandwiches, squares, coffee and tea at long tables. It was an opportunity to see many friends and acquaintances and to hug the bereaved. One of them, a gal I'd gone to school with and who was a neighbour of ours on the farm, said "You know what it's like. But at least you still have your dad." Her dad died in 2004; I remain in the ranks of the fortunate.

Go, Dad! I hope he lives to be at least 98. That gives us another 30 years with him. I tease him that he'll have to come and live with me then; he can pay me back for being such a twitty teenager, living with him and Mom. "What goes around, comes around," he snorts.

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