funeral for a friend
Love the 70's horn patches on that great song, and the sizzling electric guitar, usually not a factor for Elton.
But it's all ultimately intro to the wrenching and wailing Love Lies Bleeding. This morning I'm heading up 79 and 70 to Wheeling to say goodbye to my sweet friend and colleague Joyce Farmer. I'm not one to canonize every person the minute she dies, if you're an asshole in life, I won't hold back with that info in my blog post about you after your dead. But Joyce is one person whom I honestly have nothing but fond memories for. She was among the most compassionate and caring senior advocates I've known. I loved how when she would call me about a case of elder exploitation (and it might not even be during the workday, she often couldn't wait till Monday) if I answered with something like "well, unfortunately the law cannot protect her at this point. . ." Joyce would just basically ignore my expert analysis, and say "right, OK so what are we going to do today to stop this bullshit?"
Joyce was a hugger. How many meetings do you go to for your job, where there's a freakin reception line of hugs on the way in? Not enough, I imagine. Not enough for me, anyway. But that's how my day would start whenever I had the great fortune of a meeting with Joyce on my agenda.
From what I know it sounds like Joyce got to have a peaceful and comfortable death. Though it was very sudden and unexpected, which is particularly sad for us survivors, I feel some peace myself knowing that she got to avoid the frightening potential ravages of her diabetes, something that really worried her. But I am so sad for the grandchildren who will never get to know her, and who would have otherwise hit the freakin jackpot in the grandma department.
But in the end this blog is all about me, right? And I'm a big loser today. And a even bigger loser next time I have a meeting in Wheeling, sadly hug-free.
posted by cat 7:16 AM