Thoughts while writing an obituary

I've written too many of these. My mother's, my sister's, my husband's father's. I helped write my father's. I don't ever think I do a good job.

It's hard to sum up a long, complicated life in a couple of paragraphs, when you know the person is gone, possibly off to some unimaginable new adventure, or possibly just no longer in any sort of existence, and regardless, doesn't care what you write, while on the other hand you care very much.

When Clifford was at the Hospice center, that last day, the social worker asked whether he would like the TV on or some music. We said NO TV, but then I wondered about music. I remembered he liked classic country music, Hank Williams and that sort of thing. Then later RB remembered that the singer he really liked above all others was Joan Baez. How could I have forgotten that? He called her Joanie and was delighted that my family had known her family, long long ago. When RB and I took the twins and went off for a while, we went to the new Barnes & Noble in Boulder and I bought a Joan Baez Greatest Hits CD. I thought Clifford would like having his Joanie sing him out of this world.

RB said Clifford's relatives didn't really appreciate the CD and turned it off (this was after I left).

I brought it home with me. I'm listening to it now. The first song on it is "Diamonds and Rust," which keeps breaking my heart. It's about loss, and memory, and love.

I was looking through our electronic photo files, trying to find a good photo of Clifford for the obituary. Didn't find one. We have so many shots of him looking off to the side, not smiling, face partly hidden by a hat. A few falls ago we (me, RB, Clifford, and our old dog Molly) hiked a trail behind Silver Plume, Colorado to the Clifford Griffin Memorial obelisk. Such a cool hike. (See http://nathanabels.blogspot.com/2009/06/griffin-memorial-hike-silver-plume-co.html.) Below is a photo of me and Clifford standing next to the obelisk. It was such a beautiful day.

"...speaking strictly from me, we both could have died then and there..."

Of course, in that case, I wouldn't have had the twins. I have quite a bit of living left to do. Someday we'll take them on that hike.

I'm not getting anything done today.