Thank you to the many kind readers who sent notes of condolence after the recent passing of my mother. It is a great consolation that at the 11th hour of her earthly life, she was received into the Church with the sacraments and I gave her Last Rites and the Apostolic Pardon. That defrays much of the sorrow.
For my part these days, I’ve been coping with as much of closing down her affairs as I can before I head to Rome before Palm Sunday Some of it has been head-poundingly frustrating. The worst has been dealing with the administration for things like DMV, second only to AI driven phone menu purgatories. I have burned hours dealing with that. Charon was an amateur. Moreover, each time I make a sweep of the house or scan various bank statements, etc., I find the breadcrumbs of other action items to pursue, threads winding though the labyrinth of old policies, autopaid bills (autopay from … what/where?). Indiana Jones would envy my prowess in cracking username and passwords. I should hire myself out.
Then there are the autocratic bureaucratic demands. What documents do I have to take to The Circumlocution Office, and which to The Department of Redundancy Department?
I have learned: take everything I have, whether I have it or not.
This is an object lesson about getting my own affairs in order with crisp clarity and the close involvement of my executor.
And, while I hade a house guest (my executor who came to lend a hand), my hot water heater gave another proof of the reality of entropy and permanently failed. What came out of it at the end was unappealing. Yes, irreparable, and just in the nick of time, too. The fellow (did parish maintenance for years, super active KofC) who put the new one in for me (the next day) said that there were signs that it was burning and was probably about to start on fire, which would have been bad other than for the possibility of destroying boxes of books which I desperately want to get rid of. Still, we can agree that fire in the corner of a sheet-rocked garage would be less than optimal.
As a result, these days I’ve posted less here.
And I am behind in my thank you notes.
Someone sent a new microphone for my podcasts, but it lacked the right cable. So, there’s that. I have recent more San Marzano tomatoes which are dear to my head and heart. I have a couple of bags of nuts, because, as we say in German, “Man ist was Mann isst”. Other things have come, some with slips, others not. But slips or not, I’m scrambled at the moment. If I haven’t written to you, forgive me.
My mom’s friends are all getting together for her 91st birthday next week. They miss her.
I miss her.
She was received into the Church with the sacraments and I gave her Last Rites and the Apostolic Pardon!
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