Friday Lament

It's funny the things that stay with you about someone after that person dies. Just now, I was tending to stuff in the kitchen after we had done our Friday Trader Joes visit and I realized that there are so many odd yet delicious meals we eat because of Robert. I laughed inside because it exemplifies exactly why I loved Robert so much. His WAY of living was so unbelievably appealing to me and knowing him for so many years I picked up a lot of tricks from the old, spry man.

I am going to write a book some day and it is going to be a compilation of UNprofound habits and traits that are passed on from one generation to the next. When I think of it, those smallish Robert idiosyncrasies are the most excruciating when they come to mind because they are the reminders of all the Robert Things that I will never again actually see. Like that way he used to pour his tea and rave about how the cup was "BONE CHINA!" ---an elegant bargain he found at Marshalls or how he used to call dinner, supper or how he would tuck his wine glass into the freezer all snuggled in between the frozen peas and packages of fish and chips or how he xeroxed that photo of Mikhail Baryshnikov and we sat and stared at it for about three hours.

How he used rubber bands for EVERYTHING. Just now when I was putting away the sugar and I wasn't quite satisfied with the zip-locky capability of the bag I pulled out a handy dandy rubber band from the rubber band section we have in the drawer and that did the trick. Who would have thought that would have made me miss Robert so.

It would be so interesting to me to see a list of other inane tributes.

HERE LIES ETHEL
SHE ALWAYS HAD FRESH RADISHES ON HAND

or

RAMON LIVED LIFE FULLY
HIS PENCHANT FOR USING AND REUSING PLASTIC CONTAINERS WAS AN ART FORM

or

BETTY PASSED AWAY PEACEFULLY
REFUSING TO BELIEVE THAT THE ACCENT IN THE WORD "POSITIVE" WAS ON THE "POS" AND NOT THE "TIVE"

And on and on like that. Thus proving the theory that the best religion is the religion of Daily Life.

Pensively Yours,
Griefy Grieferson