We Leave With A Funeral; Return With A Funeral

So the day before our big trip to France, we attended the funeral of Wifey's dear friend Jeannette's father Dave.  This morning, as we were checking out of La Maison Souquet, our final Paris hotel, Wifey told me Edna had texted -- her father Meyer had also died.

Tomorrow we'll attend his funeral -- up in Hollywood, somewhere. Meyer had been declining lately, and was 93, but when someone dies, it still shocks, somehow.

It's funny -- I thought of him during the trip. I read the NYC papers since D2 is living there, and there was an article about another cabbie who killed himself. Uber and Lyft has turned the once precious medallions to worthless things.

Meyer was lucky -- he retired in the early 80s, and sold his medallion for 7 figures, or near to it. Along with the nice profit from their row house in Canarsie, he and his wife moved to Hallandale with a nice nest egg.

Several years back, Edna was forced to take over their affairs -- they were being taken advantage of by a mentally ill sibling. Edna got both her parents into Miami Jewish -- and she and Wifey would visit their three parents there. My father in law died first, of course. 

My sister of another mister Mirta would visit Meyer, and grew close to him. He would perk up at Mirta's visits -- his highlights were trips to local Chinese places.  The visits ended a few months back. Still, Mirta was very sad to learn of Meyer's passing.

France was lovely. It was a busman's holiday -- we spent two nights at seaside Cabourg, a night in Bayeaux, one in Chartres, and the final 6 nights in Paris -- three in St, Germain, and three near Montmarte.  We laughed a lot, and learned a lot.

But the homecoming brings us to a gravesite, again.

I guess it's just the way life works.