Loss, Weepies and a Little Partridge Family

Everytime I've sat here to write since yesterday, there's only been one thing on my mind. Something I've been trying to avoid talking about, but it won't go away, so maybe I'm meant to share it.

I've made mention over the past week that I've been having intermittent weepies, brought on by a combination of things. We lost two well known residents in Frog Pond Holler this past week, both prominent business owners. The first, the owner of the spa, who wasn't very well liked by anyone, but his adult children were and out of respect for them, most people did the respectful thing, acknowledging his accomplishments.

Everyone that is, except Bubbles. Listening to her sit over there on the phone with her Bubbahubby, rattling off every reason she didn't like the man, was hard enough, but when she said, "Well.. I wish I could say I was sorry he died, but I'm not," it sort of rubbed me wrong.

It's kind of haunted me all week.

Then, on election night, the owner of the local pub was killed in a car accident while returning from Big City. He rolled his girlfriend's Jeep several times before going off the side of the mountain.

The pub owner was around my age. I never met anyone who didn't like him. He loved rafting and fishing, he'd feed anyone who was hungry and he'd give you his last dollar.

The whole town mourned when he died. I didn't know him, but Ma had dealt with him when she was the assistant director down at the work center for developmentally disabled adults. She was really upset when she heard about the accident.

On Wednesday, when information was being circulated about funeral arrangements, I over heard Thelma and Louise in the next office. They are known to show up at every funeral in town, inviting themselves to sing.. badly.. causing the services to be called to an end abruptly, lest the family be made to suffer any more than necessary.

That's when I heard Louise say, "I ain't a goin' to that funeral. I ain't a singing for him. You know there'll be too many sinners there. I ain't a do'in it."

You see, the pub owner had a problem with alcohol.

The other day, me and Lulu were talking about it. She'd asked me if I'd heard anything else about the accident, then went on to tell me about being in his class in elementary school, how he was in high school, she seemed genuinely upset.

Then, she screwed up her face like people do when they smell something nasty and said, "I didn't approve of how he lived his life."

So yesterday morning when I went to town, pulling over on the side of the road to let the funeral procession pass, listening to the sorrowful sound of bagpipes being blasted from the outdoor speakers at the pub, I thought about what Lulu and Louise had said.

It's like all the good, the positive things you've done in your life don't matter when it's all said and done. All they cared about was that he didn't live up to their standards. In their minds, all of their judgement is justified in the name of God.

Where's the unconditional love? Where's the compassion for his family? Is this how we're really supposed to act? Have I gotten it all wrong?

I guess it saddens me because I'm disapointed. I had hoped that people were better than that. And maybe, I'm just as bad because I'm sitting here judging them.

So on that note, I've been walking around humming this to myself all weekend:


Later Taters!