tears of joy, tears of sorrow

Seven days can take you on a wild ride through a myriad of emotions, spinning through elation and grief, zig-zagging past all manner of feelings with enough speed to make ya plum tuckered out.

Last week I was sitting in box seats at the newly reopened Superdome, watching U2 and Green Day take the stage in front of a jubilant crowd, in anticipation of the New Orleans Saints' homecoming NFL game. I sang along with Bono, I craned my neck to stargaze at the famous fans in the stands, I jumped up and cheered when the team scored spectacularly within the first few minutes of the game. A palpable sense of release and celebration buzzed through the arena. New Orleans had arisen!

A few days later I got what I had been expecting for a long time: "The Call" - my grandmother was in the final hours of her life, her three children gathered by her bedside, watching her slip peacefully off to Elsewhere. I rushed home to join my mother and the rest of my family, and stood at my grandmother's gravesite, watching her simple and beautiful coffin being lowered into the earth's warm embrace. I think of her celebrating, too, and dancing in a great ballroom to Benny Goodman or Duke Ellington, her husband's arm once again wrapped around her waist and leading her across a white marble floor.