I ought to be giving some thought to the fact that we are scheduled to leave here in two and a half hours to drive to Connecticut and you KNOW I haven't even begun to rummage through the closet for black clothes.
Why can't I get excited about putting together a somber outfit for the First Full Day of Spring? I am not looking forward to any of this; not the squeezing into black clothes that don't fit properly, not the four hours of driving, not the awkward conversations at the funeral home. There's precious little you can say positive about March 21, 2010. And yet, a year from now, when I re-read these words, I'll be able to say that this was the day we first met his estranged daughter. And she looked so much like him, I was finally able to cry.
