I put Huggy on the train Saturday night after a pleasant week of watching movies, visiting the chiropractor and having massage. Overall, i think it was a good trip for him to have made. He thinks he cried too many tears, but TRUST ME, it's been far worse in the past. Sunday morning came too early. Both mr. zippy and I woke up exhausted. Sunday afternoon I left for Orlando, for my friend's funeral. Her entire family was there. It's been thirteen years or more since I've seen most of them. It was a lovely service. Her daughter Jackie, the very minister who presided over my own mother's second wedding, read letters from each of Em's children, grandchildren and friends, remembering that marvelous old woman with not a little bit of laughter, and not a few tears. There was a choir that I found quite touching, as Em's true passion had always been music (she'd been offered a slot w/ the Metropolitan Opera as a young woman but chose instead to marry the love of her life and raise seven children around the world as an Air Force wife), and as she grew older choral music became her particular favorite. Another daughter, a very successful romance novelist, read scriptures in an impossibly bright red chapeau. Jackie gave me a great hug, even though I wasn't expected there and the last time we were all together was at my own mother's passing. We have to stop meeting like this. One of the bereaved relatives whom I do not know (a son-in-law I think) CLEARLY K-K-KUNTRY took it upon himself to glare at me more intensely each time he passed my anti-dubya bumper sticker (that rests in my back window, taped to the inside so no one can malign it). We were all waiting to start the procession to the cemetary. He happened to be parked next to me. Every time I looked in his direction his scowl deepened and the mood grew so much darker than the celebration of Em's life called for. Knowing how death tends to bring out the worst in people, I grew increasingly uncomfortable with the thought I might be mugged by this man as soon as the first shovel of dirt was landed on the casket. I scooted out of there before that could happen.

On my way home, just as I was pulling out of a gas station before getting on the turnpike, I kid you not, I hit a pedestrian on a bicycle. I looked right, then left, but failed to look back again and there she was. as I was trying to cross three lanes of a parkway to get to the other side to go in the right direction, when I didn't see anyone the first time I looked, I concentrated on crossing traffic and didn't even think to look back again. I hit her hard enough to knock her across two lanes of traffic. THANK GOD traffic had slowed when this happened otherwise she would have been killed, easily. as it was, she was clearly hurt and I had to stop traffic myself from trying to get around us (rather than stop to help as a world full of good samaritans would, but who am I KIDDING???).

she was dazed and bleeding, but alert to the full extent when the fire dept. checked her and she refused further medical help from them. I begged her to let me take her myself if she didn't want the cops to take her, but she refused.

the fire dept. guy thought she was hopped up on something. I dunno. the brakes on her bicycle were broken and that may be why she wasn't able to stop when she saw me pulling out, but she wasn't even aware they weren't connected. the bike was very tattered, and she said she bought it in a pawn shop and knew nothing about bikes.

it was a horrifying experience but I do, so humbly, thank the lord for not allowing it to be worse.

I wish she would have allowed the hospital to do a thorough examination, but she refused. she refused me, the fire dept., the ambulance, the sheriff and the highway patrol. 9-1-1 has the voice recording of me begging and her declining.

I drove as far as the state line and quit for the night. checked into a cheap but clean hotel, took a long hot shower, wanted to cry but couldn't. it's somehow easy to think she was high as a kite, or perhaps had some criminal charge awaiting her capture, and that's why she walked away, but it did not prevent the nightmare I dreamed of her dying. what if she wasn't high, wasn't a criminal, but was mentally ill? what if she was only crazy enough to be certifiable but not enough to be committed? what if she was huggy?

this morning I simply refused to believe that there was anything else I could do - that I did, indeed, do all that I could to make it right. Even the police refused to file a report because she left the scene. "But I HIT HER! What if she has to be seen in emergency later?" They washed their hands of it, and advised me to do the same. Sounds reasonable, right?