Death is an icy day with the sun shining somewhere behind the low-hanging clouds but definitely not here.

This has been the year of funerals. A year ago it was my dad, then both sister Shirlee and her mother-in-law in April. Last weekend it was Corky's and Shirlee's mom. Irene was old and full of year so it was not entirely unexpected. Yet she was her feisty self and in reasonably good health when we saw her in April. Death ever catches us unawares.

The irony is that Shirlee's husband Bruce and daughter Deidre were here in Rochester for Thanksgiving. We sent them on their way on Sunday morning. Irene died Monday afternoon. We boarded the train for Iowa City Thursday night and were with Bruce and Deidre and Lydia for the weekend. It was good to see Lydia; with her migraines and what not she had not been up to the long drive to Rochester. There were warm hugs along with the shivering. How I do love that family.

I didn't take a lot of photos, just a few with the Yashica-D at the funeral and interment and some group photos afterward. Deidre and I had done some photography while she and Bruce were here. Lydia was fighting a drippy cold and quite happy to be left alone. I took a roll with the Kodak Junior Six-20 on the trip back. Those I developed and scanned a couple days ago. I developed a roll from the Yashica-D this afternoon. The negatives are hanging to dry behind me.

We gathered for lunch after the interment. The family and friends meal after the funeral gets done differently in different traditions but pretty much everybody considers it important, even if they can't tell you why. We mourn the loss but still we eat together and probably even laugh a bit.

Life goes on. There is hope now and beyond the grave. The shivering doesn't get the last word. All thanks be to God.