I’m back in Portland again, after my brief stint in Seattle.
Mark Bourne’s funeral was yesterday morning. Lots of friends were there, and the Ex gave the eulogy; he did a very nice job. A cremation was requested, so we contacted the funeral directors who were very prompt and professional. They took care of everything, and we chose an urn for him that we then handed to Mike. It really captured the essence of Mark B. He’s put the text on his journal if you want to go and see. I did remind him beforehand of an anecdote, which he used; perhaps inappropriate for more “normal” funerals, but absolutely perfect for our friend. 🙂
And the rest of my trip–well, it was very nice to be up there. Mark and I had an intense, profound time together; I miss him keenly now. I’ll see him again briefly next week, before he goes to work in LA for two months. That will be a long separation…though I’m hoping/planning to visit him sometime in the middle of that.
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It’s been an interesting time in my head recently. I’ve been having a number of dreams over the last few weeks about the ex-husband–not the Ex of above, but the marriage I left in 2009. It’s as though my brain is processing another piece of that. In the dreams, he is annoyed with me, disappointed in me–and that is not pleasant, but also not a disaster. If that makes sense. It’s like, Oh well, too bad, he was always annoyed with me.
I think maybe it has to do with this new career I am embarking upon: I am, at long last, taking a huge step towards true financial independence. (Or, that is the hope anyway!) Which never happened in the marriage, and it’s not exactly been happening since the marriage, as there has been the settlement. But this: this would be me taking care of myself, and maybe even then some, if it really takes off. So perhaps I am processing that.
That said, last night I dreamed about the Ex (the one of above, this time); *I* was annoyed with *him*. Go figure.
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A photo I like, of Mark and Elizabeth Bourne, from when I visited them last year in an icy-cold February and we went to the conservatory, and their glasses steamed up the moment we walked inside:
Ah, my friends. My heart aches.