I don't do "mourning" well. I guess I am too much of a sentimental sap. With that being said, you can probably surmise that I am missing Ms. Angelle. I feel like I am walking around with a lump in my throat, a load on my shoulders. You see, I am being selfish. Instead of remembering how miserable Ms. Angelle was and all the pain she was in, I am thinking about how I did not get a chance to say goodbye and how I will be crying in the banana bread the next time I make it (I always took some of the bread to her- she loved it).
I find myself thinking about all the things I will miss doing with Ms. Angelle, like going shopping, or out to eat, or visiting over coffee and laughing about shoes. I think about all the doctor's visits and waiting patiently when she was impatient. I will never forget the stories she told me, like how she poured her coffee in a plant when her neighbor came over one day because she didn't want her friend to think she had started coffee without her. And the time she took the razor out at Walgreen's and started shaving her face to see if the razor worked was priceless.
I will miss all of this and more because I don't do mourning well. At least I saw Mary the day before she died. I hadn't seen Ms. Angelle in a week and a half. Oh how I wish I could turn back the clock.