Shortly, I’ll have to outfit myself with an imaginary choke chain dog collar and drag myself kicking and struggling to the car.

From there I’ll force myself to Bottom Dollar grocery store to buy supplies.

Then it will be onward, ever onward to church. Today’s the luncheon and memorial service for my erstwhile colleague in soup kitchen endeavors, the lady who sent herself into eternity last week.

Her family want to eat lunch with the homeless people she served for many years. Also, numerous friends want to attend this lunch. Then, theoretically, we’ll all troop into church for a time of remembering. I say theoretically because I doubt the homeless people will go along with that part of the program.

This morning I’ve got to prepare enough ham and potato salad, fruit jello, devilled eggs, and pineapple upside down cake for about a hundred lunch guests. As I work, I’ll hear, in memory, Mary’s voice, “This is way too labor intensive. The reason I’m the only person willing to help you is that you make everything unnecessarily hard. We have no need to do garnishes. Furthermore, if we just make one menu item, that’s plenty. I swear, some day I’m going to quit. Why do you do this to us?”

We fought this fight every single week. Without fail. Somewhere along the way, Mary got fed up and started to complain. She was outraged that I insisted on serving a main dish, a side and a dessert plus garnishes. All the little extras took time and energy and Mary thought this was foolish considering that our guests were winos.

Every week, at some point, I said, “If you want to just go and sit somewhere until this is over, fine. I’ll do it all myself; then I’ll take you home. But as long as I’m still on the hoof, this will be the tastiest, most attractive meal served in Norfolk today. The needier our guests, the harder we should work to make their lunch a good one.”

Was Mary the only person to put me through this brouhaha each week? No. others did it as well. The difference with Mary was that although she complained, she showed up. Other people whined and then quit…or they heard how awful I am and didn’t appear at all. Mary thought I was out of my mind, she fussed, but she kept on working. That’s what I’ll miss now that she’s gone. She said her say, but she continued to work.

Yes, Mary complained, but also, she laughed. She roared with laughter at funny things happening throughout the morning. Another thing, if I got mad and cussed someone out, Mary chimed in and gave them a second verse. We didn’t agree about the quality of food necessary to serve homeless people. We did agree about just about everything else. If I started a rant, she jumped right in and we ranted together as we worked. I’ll miss that.

Basically, I just don’t want to go today. I don’t want to think about the fact that both the fun and the fussing that were Mary…it’s all over. She’s gone.