Doors closed and locked

It's a bizarre week.

The traditional 4th of July Festival of Ribs and Cole Slaw, which takes place every year at the house on Tennessee Avenue, has been cancelled because my ex housemate's father is in hospice.

I knew his father pretty well. He was a complicated, talented man. I'm listening to one of the CDs he made for me years ago, of jazz saxophonists. He was a jazz aficionado.

Shouldn't talk about him as if he's already dead. He's old and has been sick for a long time, and still - it's tough to say goodbye, will be harrowing even for his family, for whom he has been a tremendous burden in recent years. Of course it's tough on them. Of course. I know two other people whose fathers just died, and a friend whose beloved husband at last yielded to liver cancer. He was a snappy dresser and strong as an ox. He carried on for a long while after his diagnosis, playing golf, traveling with his soul mate. What a man. May his spirit fly high.

The passing away of the patriarchy. I guess!

I'll be on my own on the 4th, for the first time in many years. I'll go to the parade here on the Hill of course. After that I'm not sure where I'll find myself. It could be a great day, who knows?

Monday marked the fifth anniversary of my dog's death. For some reason this year I felt it deeply. Grief is odd, the way it pops up, fades slightly, then comes roaring back when least expected. I even cried this year. Surprising.

Yes, it's a bizarre week but .. well ... so what? Mama said there'd be days like this. I'm eating well, sleeping well, turning up the music here in the chateau, dancing around (since it's too hot to take a good walk), seeing clients. A storm is supposed to move through later today, bringing cooler weather for the weekend. I hope so. We could use some rain.

Everything has a life span, including dogs, fathers, traditional rib feasts on the 4th of July. Even heat waves have life spans. Today I'm thinking about the way sometimes doors must be closed, locked and that's it. I'm thinking about the endings of things, not in a tragic sense at all. Endings can feel like a relief at times. Sometimes they're bittersweet. Sometimes, sweet.

Why must one door open every time another one closes? Isn't it ok sometimes to close the door and that's that? I'm not talking about slamming the door, you know?

When one door closes, sometimes it just closes. I think that's ok. It's interesting to think about.