progressions

I'm making progress.  Hallaluja!  

I cried only once during the Sunday afternoon art tour hosted by this funeral home where my parents arranged their cremation in advance, yet a place I knew little about.  

It was a happy day actually, sun shining brightly on some niches and graves, shade peacefully on others.  Much of the afternoon I thought about what a personal and important decision that might be, the consideration of light itself. 

The Progressive Art Tour was instructive and inspiring and at times ironic.  The tiny chapel jolted me back to San Antonio where I watched a young bride, white gown dragging on the pavement, walk to a similar chapel, her whole life ahead of her.  I remembered it so clearly as I stood outside this church, surrounded by solemn grounds for those whose lives have ended. 

Next in our progression was The Garden of Honor.  Famously sculpted, it was strikingly moving and a proud reminder of the brave and dedicated who serve us. 

At our last stop, the tour prompted introspection in the least expected way.  Less than forty-eight hours had passed since I listened to my favorite jazz quartet close their last set with a song I'd never heard them play, the same song that this wonderfully soft-voiced guitarist gave us on this Sunday afternoon.  Yes, Hallaluja!

The day could have happily ended on that note but instead we celebrated the event designed by our friend, for a few more hours.  Champagne was opened, white wine led to red, nibbles to dinner, chuckles to laughter, and throughout there was the clinking of glasses.

It had been a lovely but emotional day and by the time desserts were shared, they were for me, the final reminder that nothing is sweeter than life itself.

Restland Funeral Home, Dallas
Sandra Moudy, Director of Community Relations
Robert Hogan, sculptor 
John Spengler, musician-songwriter