Today is the viewing of a family friend, tomorrow is her funeral. She was in her 50s, died of MRSA pneumonia. She entered the hospital after I did last week for my surgery. She passed away on Saturday.

The day before my surgery, just 8 days ago, on Sunday November 30, she waited on us at the Lodge for breakfast, and gave me a hug on my way out the door, that I would be ok.

As involved as I was in my own head and my own fears, I never would have imagined in a million years that I would never see her again. Not in this manner. I was terrified I would never see anyone again, not that I would come home, and she wouldn’t.

She leaves behind a husband, children, grandchildren, friends, coworkers, a lot of people who loved her. I think everyone who knew her is still in shock, as there is no way that someone who was her normal smart ass self on Sunday morning would be gone by the next Saturday.

I feel bad that I can’t be at her viewing, memorial, or funeral, but just 9 days past my surgery I am not physically up for it. I sure do feel bad complaining about the pain I’ve been in, though. I’m here, still, I made it through the past week, where she did not.