The tenth day

The tributes have been written and rehearsed, the photographs of a life gathered, the tears and laughs mingled. The granddaughters have gone to the plaza this morning for manicures in honor of their grandmother's always impeccable hands. The food trays have been ordered, the cakes baked, the wine and liquor laid in. The six-top tables are set up in the garden, waiting for their tablecloths. Mommy's ashes sit in an inlaid wooden box in her room, the programs with her face smiling up at us in tall stacks beside it.

Last night there was a great "nine night" celebration here at my brother's house, with drinking and rousing storytelling across the generations that went on till the wee hours. My brother's lodge brothers turned out in force and family and friends who had flown in from overseas also came by, some of them directly from the airport. My cousin Brian said, "Look around. This particular grouping of people may never again be together like this. We are all here to celebrate Aunt Gloria."

Today we lay our beloved mother to rest. I hope we will do her justice.