Marty and I are part of a Church of Christ "life group," which is a small group of couples who get together once a month to eat barbecue and visit. Generally someone throws in a Jesus conversation--but that isn't necessarily because this is a church sanctioned event, and more because, well... welcome to the South.
We were initially invited by Corona Gail and Her Majesty, Deb, as a way (in my estimation) to cement Marty as a member of the Church of Christ. It hasn't worked. But we're in. So, there's that. We've been part of this group for about eighteen months. I enjoy these visitsi. [=8???????????????
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(Thank you Leon, for yo]ur help typing)}.]
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Leon is now on my shoulder and batting my hair.
Where was I? Oh yes, our life group. There are about twenty of us. I very much enjoy these afternoons. Marty comes and sits in the corner more or less--but I've noticed he's becoming more social, which is strange because between the two of us, he's the extrovert.
Anyway, in our life group, there's a real estate broker and his wife. The Mister and I talk shop on occasion. His wife has been battling ovarian cancer. This sweet woman is about my age. She has a wonderful outlook on life and a perpetual smile on her face.
Ovarian cancer is one of those cancers which doesn't have a cure. It has a pause. And then it doesn't. Unfortunately, last I heard, her pause is over. At this time, the family is asking for privacy and the word, "hospice" is being bandied about.
What I'm discovering is this is hitting Marty hard.
Do I have a dress for a hypothetical future funeral? How will boss react* about him taking time off for a hypothetical funeral? Let's plan on bringing the Mister a meal or two after his wife passes. No! Let's make sure we take him out for a beer once in a while. --All of this is from Marty.
My friend's cancer has been on my mind too. Dying is always tougher on the living I think. Anyway, today I went to Amazon and bought a black dress because it turns out I don't have one any more. Hopefully the first time I have a chance to wear it, it will be for a happy occasion--like a cocktail party or party and not for a hypothetical funeral. And perhaps my friend will have another pause and we'll be able to laugh with her and her husband some Sunday afternoon during our life group.
*There will come a time when I will write in greater depth about Mary's boss. She is a work-a-holic who doesn't believe anything less than a 50 hour week is acceptable and vacations mean "being allowed" to leave the office, but take one's laptop with them and log in for at least three hours a day (which happened on our vacation).