Well, we have survived a brutal week

Well, we did it. We survived a three-funeral week, including two funerals where Mark and I were among the next-of-kin. I never want to see another week like this again in the entire history of the universe. God forbid. In fact, I'll even include LAST week in the "never want to experience this again" declaration, because it was during the previous week that Mr. R., Aunt Rita, and Mark's dad were all in dreadfully failing health, leading us all to understand that their passing was imminent. But I'm glad that my friend J got to see his dad, and we got to see Aunt Rita and Mark's dad, in the days immediately prior to their passing. J saw his dad hours before he died, and we got to visit Aunt Rita and my in-laws within 2 or 3 days of their passing, at a time when it was obvious that their health was failing but right before everything started to go into crisis mode. I feel shell-shocked after this week, though. Three funerals in five days is a lot. Mark's Dad had military honors at his funeral, which were well-deserved as he was a WWII veteran and had fought in the Battle of the Bulge. Because of that battle, he never spent another Christmas without remembering the one that he spent being shot at by enemy solders. He earned a Purple Heart during that battle, as well. So his casket was draped with a flag, which was ritually folded and presented to his widow after Taps was played by a bugler. I had tears streaming when the officer knelt and presented the flag to my mother-in-law, with thanks from a grateful nation. At least I got to meet my niece's two newborns yesterday. They are a beautiful reminder that life goes on.