Maybe I´m more Carrie Bradshaw as I seem to be.
I´m having an appointment with the funeral director. I feel "neutral", can even manage a few smiles and weak jokes, only on two occasions I have to fight back the tears that seem to be always ready to flow right now...in the middle of talking about orbituaries, flower preferences and chosing a coffin (I wonder...has anyone ever has chosen one because of a proper and solid opinion? can you really have opinions on coffins??) the (female) funeral director, stops and makes a remark: "I´m sorry to say that under those circumstances but: I LOVE your shoes, they are absolutely gorgeous"...I´m just myself, as always, I enjoy the compliment, I manage to pick the right shoes for the most horrible of occasions. That´s one of those episodes when I think "I have to tell my mother about this", and then I crumble again...
Well, what can I say. I remember us kids - in the face of great tragedy and loss - cracking up over some mundane detail. (Looking back I perceive this moment as much needed relief as one cannot be sombre 24/7 for days on end). Hence your shoe moment is part of it, part of going about living whilst dealing with an incredibly tough situation. (And yes, one can develop opinions and tastes about the most grotesque aspects when confronted with certain decisions.)
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That would be lovely! I will keep you posted.
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