In threes

First James Brown, now Gerald Ford. That's two. Earlier today, I got a call for Mom. I ask who is calling, it's the daughter of one of Mom's friends, Marsha. She is calling to tell her that Marsha was found dead on Christmas day in her home by friends and family, where she lived alone. When she did not make it to a diner that night, people went to check why she did not arrive or call. No one knows what happened, or the cause as of yet, but it's probably not any sort of foul play. I had to tell this woman that my Mom had died earlier in the year, and the conversation went on from there for about 20 minutes or more. While Marsha's overwhelming sense of "self importance" eventually cause Mom to tell her to go pound sand (I was less subtle in my own run-ins with her and would leave the house when she would visit), neither of us would ever want anything like this to happen to her. I got off the phone, and, once again, failing to hold back tears is what I am beginning to feel is the world falling apart around me. It's sometimes too much to bear, but somehow, some way. I manage. Time will tell if I weather it well, or I snap.