Signs of Life

Reflections of a family in limbo.

Thanks to those of you who offered your condolences after my post last week about Alli’s death, and thanks to those of you who’ve held up our family in your prayers. (You can read Alli’s obituary here.)

We’re in that limbo state now, between the death and the funeral. Today some of us will meet and discuss the memorial service, which I have the honor of officiating. There’ll probably be tears and probably laughter and probably laughter-through-tears. Early next week, I’ll go to the cabin for a couple days to work on my homily in solitude.

It’s hard to live in limbo. None of us wants to move on with life until Alli is laid to rest, and yet some things must be done. We grocery shop and fill up the car with gas, maybe go to the gym and squeak out a mediocre workout.

I was umping a baseball game a couple nights ago. In the top of the ninth, with the bases loaded, I called a batter out on strikes. He turned around and barked, “You’re horseshit. You’ve been horseshit all night.” I ejected him from the game and thought, you can’t hurt me. You have no idea how much I’m hurting already.

Frankly, umping games has been a good respite this week — for about three hours I’m consumed completely with the game and the sadness is sidelined for a bit.

Then there’s the garden.