time for my middle brother to get out of the box

I brought the subject up yesterday, while riding back from Ellabell with Smitty and Mary.

It's really been weighing on my mind for a while, but I kept pushing it back.

Then, on Friday, Jeff let me know that Angela Kopek had died.

She's the mom of Stephanie and Christopher and she has had Multiple Schlerosis since before I ever knew her, so that's been for more than thirty years.

She was 62, almost 63.

I checked on fb and Chris said the Celebration of Life for her was scheduled for Saturday, though she had passed in September.

I already had another of those events to attend though.

Danny Lewis, high school friend, lost his brother and his nephew almost two years apart from each other.

Kenny had died in July of 2020, with his son, Jason, dying this past July.

The Celebration of Life for the 73-year-old father and 45-year-old son was held Saturday morning at Asbury Memorial Church.

Kenny had been a SeaBee in the Navy, so I had talked to someone at the reception about the CB I'd known (Chuck) in Panama.

Jason had been a poet with Down Syndrome, and so I talked to someone else about the film I'd seen recently about a play-writing woman with that medical condition.

I talked a long time with Claudette, too.

She'd asked me if I missed teaching.

So we had a conversation about students and teaching and grading papers and about running an office and dealing with people and paperwork.

Then a woman came up and talked about Kenny, having recognized him from his yearbook photo, and we determined that he must have been a junior when she knew him at Jenkins High School.

Then I'd gone to Greenwich Cemetery.

I'd felt the need for that visit.

Actually, once I arrived and sat for a moment of quiet reflection, I realized that I'd been summoned.

The area around Mama and Frank's graves must have been mowed recently.

Now, it looked trashed.

So I fetched a bag from the car and spent about thirty minutes picking up bits of shredded American flag, bits of shredded red and white flowers, bits of shredded sparkly bits from a pinwheel.

I even found a brand-new spray of pale blue flowers, still with the tag on them.

Those I took with me to Jean Marie's site.

Right place, right time.

I still felt a bit mopey, but better.

Then, yesterday, the God On Broadway service had turned out to be all about grief.

The sermon was based on the play "Dog Sees God", with familiar Peanuts characters transformed from pre-middle school age to troubled teens.

Charlie Brown is now CB and his best friend, Linus, is now a stoned hippie, disconnected from the world and from his big sister, Lucy, now in prison.

Plus, Snoopy has died, making CB wonder if dogs go to heaven.

It really was quite sad for me, given the timing.

I had tried to get perked up, though, for the BYOP in Ellabell, and mostly succeeded.

Then, Smitty had said something about Ronnie's life insurance, and that started me up about the need to have his cremains out of my house.

So, now, I am to set a date, and whoever makes it, makes it.

I am to decide where his ashes are to scattered and to notify all of the location.

I'm thinking of the bluff at Greenwich.

I think it would be best to keep family together.

I know how much Ronnie loved Mama.

Me, too.