I got writing done this morning, and then went to help my artist lady and she asked for an art lesson in the Chinese Painting techniques that I've been using. It was a gorgeous spring day, sunny and hot, and her studio was brightly lit. I brought paper and paints and my ink and stone, and she was thrilled with the lesson and paid me double what she usually does as she knows how much an art lesson should cost. Another lady had pinged me about lessons earlier in the year, and I'd kind of dismissed it as I didn't think I was good enough, but I'm having to rethink that.
Got Jet from the bus, just in time, and then got the news about the death. John had a meeting that included dinner, and so he had to leave fairly early, but played with Jet while I processed. The two boys were firing matchhead rockets off the front steps all morning and all afternoon. I sat and watched Jet carefully firing more rockets he made himself, while I was talking with folks.
Then Jet and I took our bikes to Noodles and Company and had dinner, we went to Cold Stone for ice cream after, and it was good. I was sad, but good, knowing, from her own admonishments, that I needed to take care of myself and my boys.
When we got home, I asked Jet to help me burn Hell Money or Joss paper for her. We lit joss, and he was very impressed at the $10,000,000 bank notes and how they burned green. That helped, as did the calm of getting him to bed. We were reading "A Hatful of Sky" together and ran across the Nac Mac Feegle and their wariness about the written word and how words, once written down, could talk for someone even after they were dead...
Since I was reading to Jet, I didn't lose it then. When he was asleep, I came down and that's when I lost it when I saw everyone's comments. Thank you. I think I needed to cry and I am really bad at letting myself do that, and in the midst of it John came home, and I really, really cried.
And some of it was from just being oddly *glad* that I'd made the time I could with her. That I'd gone to the effort to make the friendship of the last couple of years, and do the right things with respect to our roleplay/writing and our communication, and that I had gone to the trouble of making time for her. I was grateful to the point of crying even harder that I'd thanked her for all the things that meant a lot to me. She had told me the odds of her living, and they weren't good, but I'd gone ahead with the friendship anyway and tried to savor what we had when we had it.
I guess that flavors all my writings anyway, and may do more of that now.
Anyway... I'm figuring it out. Thank you all for your help.