It was a bad day for a funeral; name a day that isn’t. But this one came in a period of family turmoil in the middle of last month. My mother just admitted to a nursing home and exhibiting severe dementia; my father lost without her; and me at Day 6 in a ten-day course of antibiotics for a sinus infection that had knocked me flat for the first four days. Along with my own sadness, dealing again with death, I felt ravaged by life, slightly dizzy from the medication, and I had dry mouth on top of it, never much of an aid to preaching and liturgical leadership.
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