There are moments that clearly stand out as examples of what your life is. A day that could serve as a snapshot of existence, where the holder of a photo could look down and get an idea of everything that you are about, what you stand for, where you are going. Maybe it’s the day your child was born, the day you got married. Maybe it’s the day you stood up to your boss, got divorced or kicked a bad habit. Maybe it was the day you graduated university, sang in tune to “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” at a brightly decorated karaoke bar, maybe it’s the day you successfully argued your way out of a speeding ticket.

For me, my day was yesterday.

It was Ben’s funeral. I dressed early, swiped on some waterproof mascara and stuffed my purse with kleenex. I got stuck in traffic and arrived at the hall with 3 minutes to spare. I looked around and saw less than 10 cars. That should have been warning sign number one. Although confused, I jumped out of my car, smoothed my tweed skirt and walked briskly to the front door. A woman with cluster of pink balloons followed in after me. The pink balloons should have been warning sign number two. Instead, I look around and see a handful of old women sipping tea out of styrofoam cups and discussing where to place a large cut-out of a teddy bear. The teddy bear should have been warning sign number three. I walked quietly over to the women and asked the one who looked most friendly what was going on in the hall.

“A baby shower of course. Oh! Can you go get the door for Marie? She’s got more balloons.”

I ran and opened the door for the thankful Marie and then grabbed my phone and started dialing like mad. I was hoping to get anyone who I knew was going to the funeral and would give me some idea of what the hell was going on. Either I was at the wrong hall or had come at the wrong time. Thankfully, my brother can always be counted on to answer his phone in times of emergency. After a brief conversation (that included so much swearing that I’m sure Ozzy would have blushed), it was confirmed- I was at the wrong hall. And now, 15 minutes late. For a funeral.

I held the door open for Marie again (apparently this shower had a ‘balloon theme’, or they just really, really liked balloons) and then ran to my car. Gravel slipped quickly into my shoe and as I ran I stepped down repeatedly on two sharp chunks of rock. I let out a little shriek while opening my car door. I turned my key in the ignition and…. nothing. A brief grunt of refusal from my ‘new to me’ car followed by a frustrating silence. I tried again. And again. And again. Until I ‘flooded’ the car (that was the term used by Marie’s sister who was now bringing in cupcakes and heard me in the parking lot). I called AMA and was told that they would be 40 minutes.

I found that my waterproof mascara came in handy as I allowed myself a few minutes of deep seated self pity in the form of tears. Then I hit my steering wheel a few times (physical abuse on steering wheels almost always makes me feel better in times of distress). I dumped the rocks out of my shoe, walked back inside the hall and washed my hands (after physical abuse, washing my hands almost always makes me feel better in times of distress). I helped hold up the teddy bear sign at the front door since I was the tallest person in the hall (I think that was the first time my 5″2 self was addressed as ‘the tall girl’). I ate a cupcake (gluten was the least of my worries at this point) and told the ladies where I was supposed to be. They clucked sympathetic responses, and the one nice lady with frosting stuck to the delicate whiskers above her lip patted my hand. I said goodbye, went to my car and quietly thought of all the things I wished I would have said to Ben. AMA finally honked their arrival, gave me a boost and informed me that I needed a new battery.

I drove into the city first extremely annoyed with myself. I wanted to believe that this incident was an abnormal occurrence, something that wouldn’t be expected, a blip on my otherwise normal radar, but it wasn’t. I wanted to be shocked and amazed that I would end up eating a cupcake with a woman named Enid instead of at a funeral I felt I needed to go to. But these are the things that I do. The things that happen to me. I wasn’t surprised, in fact my first reaction when I realized I was at the wrong spot was ‘of course I am’. Not in defeat, but almost in… surprise that I expected something different. Even my brother wasn’t surprised when it became clear on the phone that I was at the wrong spot spending my time opening doors for women holding a zillion balloon strings rather than at a funeral I had wanted to go to.

The annoyance lifted as I became aware of two things- One, I had missed the funeral completely. It was over and there was nothing I could do. And two, that I apparently wasn’t a person who needed tears and funeral hymns to say goodbye. Apparently I could find a way to say goodbye with cupcakes, balloons and hand pats from kind strangers. And of course, a few moments in my car to say everything I never did.

My day didn’t go anything how it was supposed to. What I expected to happen never did, and what didn’t happen was better than I expected. A perfect snapshot of a not so perfect life. And for that, I’m thankful.

UPDATE: My google reader currently has ZERO unread posts. I can’t remember the last time it said that. EVER.

UPDATE II: I’m far too excited about this (courtesy of Jill of All Trades). If you’ve ever wanted to revisit what happened in the Second Super Special, how annoying Dawn could be with her love of health food or a detailed account of some of Claudia’s more wild outfits you have to check this site out. It feels like Christmas came early.