I need little more depth of field on this shot. (In case you are interested – milkweed bugs live about 6 weeks.)
Just finished up a turkey, bacon, avocado and tomato wrap. Some guys are playing golf on the tv. Just like Carlton was still here and we were still “enjoying every sandwich”… Grief has smoothed out, mellowed out. The memory of Carlton is like comfy old levis. Or a much loved cashmere sweater.
Went into the office today to knock out some scanning. Then, I took a couple of busses down to the asylum directly from the hospital. Had a lovely late lunch. I had the patio all to myself. Stomped around the strip mall next door. Came back to the asylum and snagged an ice cream cone. (Carlton would so love living in a place with ice cream on demand 24/7.) And bussed it back home.
They were having a memorial service at the asylum. As you might imagine – they have LOTS of memorial services. This one was for the lady who lived in the Old Bat Cave before me. She was still alive when I “bought” the unit – she had transitioned to the nursing unit. Now, she has transitioned to the next level. No, I didn’t go to the memorial service.
Old people, myself included, are pretty philosophical about being dead. Hey, it’s going to happen. Nobody gets out of here alive. However, we are not so very happy about the end game. When we consider how far how fast and successfully the millennials drove the gay marriage issue, seems to me the boomers could drive assisted suicide. Enlightened self interest.