Whew


Lost in Central City, New Orleans.

Life.

As long as we have life, there’s hope.

John Lennon said that. He was murdered.

This weekend and week is about as rough as it gets. First came Peter Fonda. I didn’t know him, but his work influenced me. Then came Nancy Parker. I met her once at the Krewe of Zulu on Mardi Gras Day. A true sweetheart. Next comes Governor Kathleen Blanco. I met her at some event. She helped rebuilt the city after the destruction caused Hurricane Katrina. She stood down the president when he wanted to nationalize the state in the aftermath of the storm. She was the aunt to a very good friend of mine.

It didn’t stop there.

My oldest friend in New Orleans died on Sunday. She had breast cancer. It was in remission until it wasn’t. She was 48 years old. She leaves a husband and a 12 year old son. They both adored her.

Today, I hurt.

I suppose that I’ll go to the celebration of her life on Sunday. From there I’ll go to the first second line of the 2019 – 2020 season. I wasn’t sure if I’d photograph that. I suppose the decision was made for me. My vision was clarified in no uncertain terms. You know, the people in the Mardi Gras culture call this, “home going.” I guess. It doesn’t hurt any less.

The picture. It’s old. Most of you haven’t seen it. It’s me. Today.

You know what I say. The work is the prayer. It had better be.

8 Comments

  1. There are no real words to express condolence. I found myself this summer finding it hard even to read the loving and warm condolence cards friends sent during the time my stepson passed. I just felt like words hurt because they fall so short. Yet sometimes words are all we have to convey our support, I can’t help but say I’m really sorry about your dear friend. And when I hear about a child, the “hurt” just compounds.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you, Debra. We are just back from the funeral and celebration of her life. The celebration was good. A lot of people came from long distances to be there. Her son will be raised by his dad and a village. We all count ourselves lucky to have known her.

    Like

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