These off years of Thanksgiving are always the odd ones. John is spending the weekend with him mother. We only have two "official" ones where are mandated to be together. I have been pondering recently how things are going to change when he turns 18. So much of our time together is on a schedule and because it is "supposed to" be our weekends together. Families that have not gone through divorce never have to worry about that; you just always and simply spent time with your family. I am a little nervous as to whether or not it is going to make a difference to him when there is no longer a piece of paper saying when we have to be together.

Yes, I miss him. Can you tell?

I spent the day at friends and ate more than I should have and definitely more that my bypass stomach should have allowed me to. Before heading over to dinner I saw "Zathura". Not to bad.

Today was the rough one. My friend Rosa had her father pass away on Monday and today was the funeral. I ended up as a pall bearer. I was honored to be asked. I've been adopted by her family as a "little brother" so it seemed almost natural.

I had flashback to the two other times I've been a pall bearer. The first time, at age 17 for my friend Tony and then for my Uncle Eddie. Even prepared for it, being a pall bearer has to be the most nerve wracking thing for a person to do. Any insecurities about your ability to do the job nags at you the entire time.

"Don't let me hand slip! Don't let me hand slip! Don't let me hand slip!"

That's all you think the entire time. Then you are either straining from the weight or feeling guilty because it seems a if everyone else is carrying the load and all you're doing is holding on and looking like a token pall bearer but not really doing the job.

And each time I have been a pall bearer I have stepped on the back of the foot of the guy in front of me. Not enough to give his a flat foot but enough to make my blood preassure spike and a curtain of flop sweat drop down my back.

My funeral is going to be very different than most. There will be music, laughter and an open bar. As I was sitting in the dour and depressing funeral home I had the thought of checking to see if my old home town would allow a service right out on the beach near where I grew up. At the very least, the funeral procession will drive through Oakland Beach en rout to the cemetery as a final farewell. I also see being lowered into the ground to the strains of Norman Greenbaum's "Spirit in the Sky".

No reason why it should be depressing. Celebrate the life, not mourn it. Well, I've got time to worry about the details.

When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that's the best
When they lay me down to die
Goin' up to the spirit in the sky

Goin' up to the spirit in the sky - spirit in the sky
That's where I'm gonna go when I die - when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
I'm gonna go to the place that's the best