Sylvia's Journal

We are in Atlanta now. We arrived last night and made it just in time to the restaurant where everyone had gathered for dinner, to see the bills being paid; we ended up eating leftovers at the house where everyone, family and friends, gathered around Ingrid and Todd, leftovers themselves now that both their parents have passed away; a house full of memories of Linda and Erik. The last time we were here we had come to bury Erik, less than 2 years ago; now it was their mother. It was nearly the same crowd that had come together the night before for a communal dinner of remembrances and reconnections.

Before we left for Logan airport we made a cameo appearance at the Magnuson family reunion which, in true Magnuson fashion, got off to a slow start. This meant we got to see only a very small percentage of the relatives, including Sita and Jim who arrived when we left. We were sad to leave and Axel had a particularly bad time, being torn between relatives in Gloucester and Atlanta; the Gloucester reunion a happy event in glorious weather, the Atlanta event a sad one in rain and overcast skies, caused by the latest hurricane to touch the South East. A death in the family can be like a hurricane in its devastation.