I've been through my share of awkward conversations with friends. The "don't you think you might be drinking too much?" conversation. The "where'd this bruise come from?" chat. The "just because you've decided to stop being a lesbian doesn't mean I've suddenly stopped seeing you as one" potboiler. The "I'm not sure I'm cut out to be married" post-affair exposé. Heck, every other conversation with Dorkass leads to her asking "And you think it's healthy, not having any interest in a relationship?"
But nothing prepared me for what Lynn said to me last weekend, when she asked me to give the eulogy at her funeral. Mind you, Lynn is several decades from dying, so this was a bit unexpected. And a hideously unpleasant thought. I still can't bring myself to think about summing up my friend's life, not while it's still a work in progress.
I asked her why she was tapping me now. "Well," said my former boss, "I know how long it takes you to write something you hate writing, so I thought I'd give you a head start."