Well, it's a little after midnight. I got through the second anniversary of your death as well as could be expected, I guess. This was the first time that anniversary came on a Saturday.
I do need to confess to you, I'm a bit concerned about Sunday.
Do you remember sitting in the armchair next to sofa on which I was sitting a week before the surgery you did not survive when a cousin called? When the conversation was over, you turned to me and proclaimed, "I swear, if anyone else asks me if there is anything they can do, I'm going to say, 'Yes, there is; you can bring me a large bottle of Crown Royal?'"
The Rev. Dr. Gary DeMore mentioned that in your eulogy. Maybe that's why I found a large bottle of Crown Royal on the front porch when I came home after your service.
I opened that bottle again this evening in your memory. As I did last year, I poured myself a drink of Crown Royal. I remember how you used to occasionally pour yourself a drink. "Three fingers," you'd tell me is the right amount. Then you'd insert some ice cubes, bring the drink with you to the sofa and we'd cuddle up and watch some program on the laptop while you sipped your drink.
I have, tonight, realized my fingers are much thicker than yours were. What was three fingers to you has an entirely new definition regarding what is three fingers to me. That could possibly account for the fact that, after I poured those three fingers to be consumed in your memory, I may have poured another. Let's see, three fingers times two equals six fingers. Did I pour another? I'm not sure. If I did that woud be, hold on, ten, no, that's not right, hold on, I'll get it, okay, one, two, three, .... Okay, I've got it, nine fingers.
Here's the point: I'm feeling a little dizzy. I have to preach in a little over ten hours. If I preach for the first time in my life with a hangover, it's your fault.
Oh gracious, you know, Ms. Parson, despite your beauty, your beaming countenance, your personality, your feminine ways, when it comes to Crown Royal, you were much more macho than will I ever be.
I raised that (those) glass(es) in your honor tonight. And I could do so because, and here I think you'd be proud of me, I realize I'm alive. Life goes on. Damn it, life goes on.
I'd raise, now, another glass in your memory, but I do have to preach in a little while.
Love ya still,