Black has always been my favorite color. (It IS a color, isn’t it?)
Not only does it make me look five pounds thinner, it goes well with the circles under my eyes that showed up a few years ago.
But I have to tell you that I’m beginning to dread pulling out my little back dress – the trusty frock that would take me from a funeral straight to a cocktail party. Lately, it’s been taking me only to funerals and I’m beginning to hate it. It even smells of carnations – a once treasured smell (Remember “A White Sport Coat” and a pink carnation?”) that is beginning to annoy me.
Since funerals should be a celebration of lives well lived, why do we have to wear black or some other drab, somber color? I recently attended a funeral where one brave soul was wearing a bright yellow suit. Several people looked at her questioningly, wondering if she had committed the ultimate faux pas or was making a statement about her “sunny” feelings about the dearly departed. I prefer to think it was the latter.
In my religion, we view death simultaneously as a cause for mourning and celebration. The family mourns a temporary separation. Should we dress somberly to honor a person passing from pain into God’s presence? It doesn’t feel quite right.
I can tell you this, my friends better have some gaudy purplish and orange or even hot pink something in their closets for when my time comes. And would someone please note that at long last, I am no longer on a diet! I will leave this earth like the thief on the cross -I am going straight to Paradise where calories no longer count and no one cares what you wear.
This just in from a new deluded diva. It’s pretty cute:
Two 90-year-old women, Rose and Barb, had been friends all of their lives.
When it was clear that Rose was dying, Barb visited her every day.
One day Barb said, ‘Rose, we both loved playing women’s softball all our lives, and we played all through High School. Please do me one favor: when you get to Heaven, somehow you must let me know if there ‘s women’s soft-ball there.’
Rose looked up at Barb from her deathbed and said, ‘Barb, you’ve been my best friend for many years. If it’s at all possible, I’ll do this favor for you.‘
Shortly after that, Rose passed on……
At midnight a few nights later, Barb was awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to her, ‘Barb, Barb.’
‘Who is it?’ asked Barb, sitting up suddenly. ‘Who is it?’
‘Barb — it’s me, Rose.’
‘You’re not Rose. Rose just died.’
‘I’m telling you, it’s me, Rose,’ insisted the voice.
‘Rose! Where are you?’
‘In Heaven,’ replied Rose. ‘I have some really good news and a little bad news.’
‘Tell me the good news first,’ said Barb.
‘The good news,’ Rose said, ‘is that there’s Softball in Heaven. Better yet, all of our old buddies who died before us are here, too. Better than that, we’re all young again. Better still, it’s always springtime, and it never rains or snows. And best of all, we can play all the softball we want, and we never get tired.’
‘That’s fantastic,’ said Barb. ‘It’s beyond my wildest dreams! So what’s the bad news’
‘You’re pitching Tuesday.’