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I left the sawmill this afternoon and called Mama to see if she needed a ride home from ICU duty. She was bored to tears, and took me up on the offer. We swung by and picked up the Babygirl's check and headed toward the hood. An old and dear friend of hers died a couple of days ago and we were talking about the funeral arrangements. That's when she started talking about her own wishes and advising me about the family dynamics that will surely be a part of said event.

We chatted about the china that was sold the the set to be passed on, if and when the BG decides to set up a homeplace somewhere. It was an easy casual conversation about last wishes and honor. It wasn't until I dropped her off at the log cabin that it dawned on me exactly what had been shared and what kind of weight that it carried. About the time I hit Pecan Lane, the tears started flowing. Didn't take long to build up to a full fledged "ugly cry" and all the snot that gets slung along with it. When I saw LP, she immediately gave me a hug and then listened like a true amigo and daughter. "We're in this together, Mom." And she meant it. Faith in action? You bet your ass.

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