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a funeral in January

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

St. Catharines, 2011.01.12

I attended a funeral in St. Catharines, today, for a woman whose health deteriorated so rapidly it was head-spinning.

Only in the Autumn she'd been in seeming fair health. She'd had no diagnosis of major health issues (though she was riddled with cancer as it turned out), and in fact had been swimming in Florida in late October. We'll miss her; she was kind and sharp and did things like ensuring that her grandchildren could speak her native Hungarian fluently.

A snowstorm during the night had laid down some fifteen centimeters of snow, and the roads weren't in great condition. But we fared better than the last time I travelled to St. Catharines for a funeral in January: on that occasion we left the road due to the terrible driving conditions.

rand()m quote

It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work, and that when we no longer know which way to go we have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.

—Wendell Berry