To say it’s been a challenging year would be like calling a cucumber a pickle. Well, sort of. Anyway, my point is that I’m not all that surprised to have found myself driving across the country and through the middle of nowhere last weekend, for purposes of saying goodbye to a dying family member. The upshot is that the middle of nowhere happens to have a Little America. Little America happens to have 50 cent ice cream cones. I happened to have three of them. Don’t judge.
I had many states, hundreds of miles, and hundreds of minutes to think through how, exactly, you structure a weekend around quality time with someone whom you will probably next see at their funeral. You know it. They know it. They know that you know it. They know that everyone knows it, and they know that you know that everyone knows it. And so on. The strangest thing, though, is that everyone pretends that none of that is the case, and I’m the worst offender, inspiring today’s post about what not to do when you’re saying goodbye:
As it turns out, hindsight is 20/20–a reality that matters very little in situations like this.