Mom and I are off to Amarillo…to be by Kaye’s side as they lay her grandson to rest. 

I received an email from her yesterday (in response to my last blog entry) and as I struggled to read it through the endless stream of tears, two words kept running through my mind - over and over and over again: steel magnolias.  And I realized, once again, how lucky women are.  How in the deepest, darkest of moments, we are able to melt the tension away - with a home-cooked meal, or a perfectly-timed expletive, or a tension-melting comment.  The pain doesn’t disappear, but for a few precious moments, we feel alive again.  We think, “maybe I can get through this.”

“I hope these tears are a help to healing,” Kaye wrote. ”Otherwise, they’re just tearing the hell out of my sinuses.”  God, I love her for that.

Women are healers, don’t you agree?  They are the glue that binds it all together.  Families.  Friendships.  Organizations.  Celebrations - for those living and for those to whom we’re saying goodbye.  It’s what we do.  It’s what makes us so very special.  And on those days when I wish I could pee standing up, or bring in a comparable salary or have control over the dating game, I remember.  I remember how lucky we are.  I look back at pictures of girl’s weekends or weddings or the beauty of my sister’s belly as she carried my precious nephew.  I revel in the thought of my mother’s fingers stroking my hair, or huddling together with friends for that latest juicy tidbit, or spilling the beans - for hours - about the beautiful boy I just met…or just “re-met”.

As I was packing this morning, I wondered, “Does Kaye have waterproof mascara?  I’ll bring some just in case.  And I better pick up some eye-makeup remover.  Curel lotion doesn’t do the trick on the tear-resistant stuff.  I should bring my camera as well.  So I can show her the pics from my girl’s get-together last Saturday…she’ll get a kick out of the one we slyly snapped of the guy with the hair plugs.  And then we’ll start talking about dirty old men.  And for a moment…just a moment…the tears will come from a different place.”  Steel Magnolias.  That’s what we are.

Tomorrow we’ll stand shoulder to shoulder, hands clenched together, as Kaye and her daughter do the unthinkable.  We’ll cry without embarrassment, embrace those that love us most, share precious memories and then maybe, a little later, when exhaustion sets in, we’ll pee with laughter at the absurdity of old pervy bastards.

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