Yes, it really is me again

I attended the funeral service for David, son of my friend Patty. It was an uplifting, beautiful service that was attended by hundreds. He would have been amazed at the number of people who cared for him and for his family. He suffered from the diagnosed mental illness of depression. His suffering is over. I pray that this is the last death I hear about for a long time.

I went to visit my parents' afterward before going over to Patty's house. While there, my father got a phone call and after hearing him say he was sitting at the table and didn't see a bill anywhere, I asked him to give me the phone. It was their insurance agent, and I found that the policy for their auto and home hadn't been paid and had been canceled. My sister has been paying bills, but my father has 'lost' some of them without her knowledge. Two weeks ago my mother's charge card was denied. It turned out the bill hadn't been paid. We have to come up with a better system. My father's dementia, while still in the early stages, is becoming more evident. In some ways he's still very sharp. In others, not. It's very interesting to see. He spends much of his time reading now, sitting at the kitchen table. He has a big stack of books. For the longest time he had stopped reading. This is a very good hobby to have and I'm glad he has it back. He reads and watches DVDs and TV in the kitchen, and he naps. He sits on the back patio. He seems happier. I wonder how you can read so much while forgetting so many other things?

By the time I straightened up the insurance mess at the office, I thought it was too late to go to Patty's house. I found out later that people stayed a very long time and now I regret that I didn't go.

I went to Caribou Coffee instead, with my laptop. I wound up spending about 2 hours writing a e-mail to my ex about my daughter and college. After writing, writing, writing and editing, editing, editing, I thought that I probably shouldn't send it. I wasn't happy with that idea since I had just spent so much time writing. I didn't think I could articulate my feelings as well face-to-face with him as I could in a 'letter'. Then again, many has been the time that I've written to him and gotten what I've considered a lecture back in return. I didn't want that. So I texted him, telling him that I wrote a tome that I hadn't yet sent, about college. I told him that AOL wasn't letting me send it (true), but if he wanted to talk after reading it that I'd like to do it in person. He texted back suggesting we meet in the morning. I got home with every intention of sending the e-mail, but in an instant decided it was a bad idea. It's so easy to misconstrue a e-mail, however well-intentioned. I texted him to say I wouldn't be sending it; that talking is much better. We're meeting in the morning. I'm SO glad I didn't push 'send'. I would have gotten a lecture. I'm going to print it out, just so I can look at it for reference. It's good to have a cheat-cheat for back-up.

I'll end this randomly. I live across the street from an Army base. It took years for me to realize we could hear the bugle calls: reveille, retreat and taps, each and every day. I'm not sure of the time of the first two, but the last is at 9:00 PM. I like that I can hear it.