It's the trip, Stupid

09/04/09 I'm leaving in the morning for New Hampshire, where Gretchen and Chad have their summer house. Poppy's not going. Poppy is NOT going. He will NEVER go again, and when I get home, he WON'T BE HERE either. HE'S DEAD. That's the long and the short of it. I have some of his ashes in a Limoges box that he bought for me one Sunday on Royal Street. It's an oyster with a pearl inside and in the lid it says "Eat New Orleans Oysters, Love Longer." It is SO Clint, and it's going to New Hampshire with me. Sick? Maybe but I don't give a shit. I'm grasping at any comfort I can find....................

...........................................................I was interrupted by a phone call from my dear and caring friend, Mili Hunt. She called to wish me a good trip and to say that reading my blog has made her feel as though she knows me better - even after years of friendship. No one could have told me anything that I needed to hear more.

Please, readers, make comments. Pick apart my writing, disagree with me, tell me what you think. Tell me how you have coped with loss.