Or should I have called it A Womb of One's Own

Today was a day of death and rejoicing, in a crazy way. This morning's funeral Mass for Tony Crema was lovely and simple, not as crowded as the funeral home last night, but good. The boys gave lovely eulogies which was almost, unformtuantely, ianudible. But you got the gist that they loved their nonno, that he was special to them. And the lunch afterwards was great. I got back to work after 2, worried about getting something for Robert's retirment in Montreal - which I will not go to. Jen came in and we talked about the cancer for a bit. She's been through it all herself, as well as her mum and now hr brother. She knows the score too well, unfortuantely. It's a griim knowledge but a hopeful one all the same. And it gave me confidence even thoug I admit I am feeling a bit nervous about what I will hear. My cousin Rino, who has been coping with oral cancer this past year, who has loved singing all his life, who doesn't smoke, who has lost his voice a bit because of the treamtnet, reassured me about how great Sunnybrook was, as did Jen. And he held me close and said, "Don't forget to be strong and optimistic..that's the most important thing". And I believe him. And I remember Joan saying, "Expect the worst and hope for the best".  Somewhere in there is my own mantra to lull me to sleep tonight.