Looking at your own headstone

"Nancy Patricia Latimer* Griffith", it reads.  We have our headstones engraved; all that's missing are the dates of death.  As I gazed at it yesterday, planting B's Mum, I found it comforting, not weird as some gathered thought. 

I know where I will be. 

So, she's finally here in "America", as she dismissingly called the entire continent.  She would not visit here alive, but she is here permanently, dead and dust, tucked in with my parents and brother.  We all feel better.  My true friends, my real friends, all showed up.  Putting a notice in the local newspaper culls the herd.  All the people who gushed over us Sunday when we showed up at our old parish?  None there.  All the Knights of Columbus?  None there.  All the people I worked with for a hundred years?  One there.  All my teenage friends?  Two there.  All B's co-workers when he ruled the Ottawa world?  None there.  Most of my cousins?  None there.  As a matter of fact, when my mother died in 2001, one sent me a poison-pen letter, telling me how much she had always hated me.  Went on for four beastly pages.  Nicely done.  Ah, envy.

Time to edit the Christmas card list.        

But all those who showed up?  I love them all.  My stepson?  There (of course).  Our children's God Mother and her husband.  There.  The ex-husband of my darling late cousin?  There.  An old high-school buddy and his fabulous wife?  There.  Cherished neighbours from Bruyere Street?  There.  B's only living Auntie from The Raj?  There.  His God Son?  There.  The very sick widow of a dear friend?  There.  Another high school buddy?  There.  My cousin and his wife?  There.  A co-worker from the PSC?  There.  Her husband?  Not there and no good reason why.  People B worked with in his charitable world?  There.  The president of McGarry's herself?  There. 

Hope I didn't miss anyone.  Our great friend, Father Harry McNeil, conducted the graveside service.  Simple and matter-of-fact -- exactly as Diamond would have wanted.  Then we gathered at the Royal Ottawa.  So much to catch up on!  Many people read my blog, so they have nothing to catch up on with me, my entire life out there in print.  But having few clues about what's up with them, I had to spend great time with each.  What did I mostly talk about?  My adorable grandson.

Fashion notes?  Remind me not to wear high heels on the grass.  Had to kick them off when I stood up to read a few notes on behalf of my daughter.  Actually, grass will never deter me from heels -- nothing will.  In fact, B suggested we add an inscription....."I can't walk in these shoes", my refrain when I want to be dropped off at a door.     

So here we are in The Valley, enjoying my cousin's beautiful home and grounds.  So pastoral, it puts me in mind of a retreat.  Di is at rest and so are we.   

* "Latimer" is my birth name, wanted it included.