Threes, Sevens, and more memories

Do things always happen in threes? Is seven really a lucky number?

It must make for good tv since there was a Criminal Minds on the other night where everything was done in 3's. Three turns of the knob, third floor of the building, three victims, etc.

This week in DC there are three snowstorms - Sat, Tues, and Fri.

The young pandas on their way home to China are travelling on a 777 for luck.

I have often believed that things happen in threes. Both good things and bad things, and I suppose things that might be good for some and bad for others.

Over the last 7 months, 3 people I care about have left this world, one each from 3 generations. One was a friend. One was a friend of the family. One was family. All knowing the end was coming - which is both good and bad. All with bodies that failed and minds that stayed clear - at least clear enough to fight back and clear enough to be frustrated by the changes that could not be prevented. All had a chance to say goodbye to family. All with family that was hurting watching and waiting. All with family that was there to support and love and care. Arielle in July, Mr. Thurston in Oct, and my Grandmother this week, February 3, 2010.

I already wrote about Arielle. Here is my memory of Mr Thurston. I'll preserve the memory of my grandmother in the coming weeks.

Donald Allen Thurston (April 2, 1930 to October 6, 2009)
A friend of my parents and the father of a friend.
A Hall of Fame broadcaster, champion of minorities in broadcasting, a man of great integrity, and much loved family man.
A survivor of cancer and a fighter against the effects of Parkinson's.

I do not remember much of Mr Thurston - I was about 8 the last time I saw him. I do remember his home and eating too many blueberries from the bushes in the back. I remember running between those bushes with the dogs. I have this image of a cold or rainy day and a deck of cards and fresh baked goodies. I remember being a little spoiled at his home though I do not know if that was by him, his wife, or his daughter. It is his daughter that was my babysitter when I was a small child and who I have stayed in touch with all these years. Her husband has provided a wonderful slide show of pictures as well as shared his remarks from the memorial. I shared this with my parents who smiled as they shed a tear and remembered that warm and wonderful smile. Bob also tells a nice story of building a plane a couple of years ago.

-SML