The Social Porcupine

I didn't attend a single funeral last year.  And yet I know more people that died last year than any other year. As far as I know, only one was classified "due to COVID". I was saddened to not go to the first two funerals (I was in Germany).  This post has been begging attention for quite some time. But this is a topic that is hard for me to face, though it feels ever imminent, always present.  Shirley was one of my favorite clients. Normally I would just listen as she ranted over some horrendous happening. She had her favorite stories that she liked to repeat. 'Twas fine by me as I missed a lot of what she said, and thus always garnered a new detail. Some people would have thought she was grumpy. She probably was. But I loved her. I felt I brought her happiness. Which made me happy.  On my last time cleaning, before leaving for Germany, she hugged me and said, "You're one of my best friends."  I wanted to say the same. I wondered, but would it be a lie?...

When I first saw Gloria a little over a year ago I saw a wounded fairy: a small, petite older woman who had all the signs of having lived a hard life, yet still loving others abundantly. Hardship had not handicapped her kind and generous spirit. Though she had a trachea, her smile radiated warmness and that's all one could see or hear. Her last name only further validated my initial perception of her Gloria Hurtgen ... Though I'm not sure of the actual meaning of Hurtgen, it reminded me of the fairy-like creatures in Brandon Sanderson's " Stormlight Archive" called spren. Or of a precious gem, which Gloria certainly was. Though hurt or wounded, her spirit was still very much that of a spren or gem. Gloria had heard my dad had been badly hurt in a car accident, and though we did not know who she was and had never met before, she came to our house to give and help us. Shortly after I begin to clean for her. Whenever I came to clean, Gloria always asked how ...