If Pigs Could Fly...

Jean

If Pigs Could Fly...

Jean
Pigasus Pigasus


Yesterday I took a photo of my friend to her dad that he asked me to scan and crop into a head shot and enlarge for the service. With lots of photoshop magic to get the graininess out and a switch to black and white, it came out pretty darn good.

Anyhow, her 81 year-old dad picked up "Pigasus" and almost like he was making a presentation, he said, I want you to have this. Oh, he made me cry. Her dad carved this pig for her.

Now, I'm not at all fond of pigs. I used to help dad feed them as a kid, and also saw how mean the mother sows are and how you have to protect the baby piglets from then mothers. So I never got how my best friend was so found of all things pig. I told her she was crazy. I even had to find a farmer who still raised hogs near our farm so she could see them up close and personal on one of her trips to the farm with me. Seeing them didn't change her mind.  She had a collection of pig stuff. I took a small one for my window sill as a momento. But this carving made with love from her dad, is extra special so will be like having a piece of them both.

I woke up at 3 a.m. yesterday and again today and couldn't go back to sleep. I've been spacey and memory challenged the last few days. I'll chalk it up to grief.

I'm not looking forward to her memorial service today. Maybe because it's not a service that is in line with her beliefs, rather her step-mom's. Plus this woman wrote a poem that she plans to read. She didn't have a clue who my friend really was. But I'm glad that her sister will be there and we will know.

I will be wearing my friend's goofy pig earrings and I will think of Pigausus taking flight.

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