“Friends of L. Hughes”

Yesterday (Sunday, October 14th, 2012) was an ad hoc gathering of old friends of Linda Hughes.
This was because my beloved wife, Linda Hughes, died of cancer almost six months ago (April 17th).
There was no funeral or memorial service. Her remains were cremated and dispersed on our property under her father’s sugar-maple.
The gathering was organized by an old coworker who now lives in Rhode Island.
Most of those invited were old coworkers, but there were others.
Linda worked at Lawyer’s Co-op in Rochester 33 years. She had different positions, finally as a computer programmer.
A girl originally from the Bronx, who now lives outside Rochester (NY), came. That girl was one of Linda’s college-mates.
The Postmaster-lady, where Linda worked part-time after retirement, also came.
That Postmaster-lady came with another who walked with the other two on the Postmaster’s lunch-hour, including my wife.
My brother-from-Boston and his wife came, plus my niece from near Rochester and her husband, plus their teenaged daughter, and my sister-in-law, my niece’s mother, who lives with them all, and isn’t married.
There were dogs there too: my dog and another of a coworker. We had to keep them apart, since my dog can be nasty. —She was nasty one time at this shindig.
The gathering was held in a large county-park in a reserved lodge.
But it was so warm we set up outside, although under a roof. I don’t think I ever went inside the lodge.
Some brought dishes-to-pass, but pizza and wings were ordered.
I took the dog for a long walk.
The lodge overlooked a very large pond, and I started out around it.
I made it about a third of the way, almost two miles, but then lost the path.
My dog, a hunter, had a wonderful time, but returned filthy.
She lunged into the pond a number of times, thoroughly checked out a chipmunk-hole, and almost snagged a snake.
There was mud everywhere, and she returned caked in it. I had to dunk her feet when we got home.
After our walk, I met an old coworker of my own whose only connection to Linda was that I’d pass out excess vegetables from our garden.
That job was a newspaper in nearby Canandaigua, and even though my wife wasn’t an employee, that newspaper benefitted from her input.
We were a team, so my input to that newspaper involved her.
I remember one night we did the entire newspaper web-site, the earliest version thereof. We wrote the code and everything. Not just me, the two of us. She wasn’t an employee, but that web-site was both of us.
The gathering started at noon, and my brother and I still had not left my house by 12:30.
The Bronx-lady called and wondered where I was; that people weren’t eating until I showed. —She was hungry.
We were about to leave, so I said 15-20 minutes, and people should start eating without me.
My brother would follow me so he could drive back to Boston from the park.
As I approached the park-entrance I noticed a hand-painted arrow-sign that said “Friends of L. Hughes.”
I had to choke back a tear. I miss that lady dearly.
Farther in I saw a similar sign indicating a right-turn toward the lodge.
Someone had made signs, and I was heartbroken.
Only about 15/20 were there; half coworkers, half others. My niece arrived later, adding four to the others. Add my brother and his wife makes six, the Postmaster and her friend add two more. Add the college-mate, and we’re up to nine others.
Add the coworker of mine and her husband makes two more, but they didn’t stay long.
The other half was old Lawyer’s Co-op coworkers. At least seven or eight, although some were husbands/wives/significant others/children.
I saw the lady that made the signs but never said hello.
I probably was the first to leave beside my own coworker(s).
As I left, my brother and niece were still there. I hear another Lawyer’s couple arrived after I left.
Things went fairly well for me.
The organizer from Rhode Island came to talk with me, but I couldn’t look at her.
I do okay if I’m not alone, but otherwise I’m distraught and heartbroken.
Talking about my condition makes me clam up.

• “Canandaigua” (“cannan-DAY-gwuh”) is a small city nearby where I live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles east. —I live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield, southeast of Rochester.
• My current dog is “Scarlett” (two “Ts,” as in Scarlett O’Hara), a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s seven, and is our sixth Irish-Setter, a high-energy dog. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. [Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder.] By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad. She’s our third rescue.)