Better Things (?)

Chris loved music and found several particular songs very meaningful in recent years. He wrote and spoke about them for the kids and me over the last year. Chris was very clear that he wanted Better Things by Dar Williams played at his memorial service. I understood, he wanted desperately for the kids, family, and friends to see that there are still good things in life despite this terrible event. Chris wanted this so much that he wrote about the song from his hospital bed in December - he wished happiness for the kids despite the sadness his death would bring. Still, it was the hardest part of the service for me as I listened to this song that day. It was the only part of the service that made me cry. I simply cannot see how there will be better days ahead; I want so much to go backwards in time. The song did not resonate for me that day and I haven’t been able to listen to it since.

Better Things, verse 1

Here's wishing you the bluest sky
And hoping something better comes tomorrow
Hoping all the verses rhyme
And the very best of choruses to
Follow all the doubt and sadness
I know that better things are on their way

I often think about this song and Chris's love for it. Since Chris died the weather has given us several days of amazing blue winter skies. A few days have even held the tease of spring with unseasonal warmth. I have tried to lift my face to the sun and feel the positive vibe of Better Things, but so far I haven’t found anything remotely close to the feeling I had when I was with Chris. Sometimes the sun feels too strong, too perfect, as if it is mocking me. One of my children remarked on this, too, shortly after Chris died, it didn’t feel like it should be so nice out since we were so sad.

I have struggled to embrace Chris’s wish that we would find better things in life. Future happiness would be fine (please, I need hope that I won’t always feel this gutted!) but better? I can’t imagine that. When I found the voice memo Chris made about his favorite songs I was really captivated by his thoughts on Better Things. In this recording made in May, Chris was able to communicate with a bit more nuance than the dictated work from December. He spoke about really liking the song but feeling conflicted over it, too. He wanted the family to focus on good things in the future beyond the severe challenges of that time, but he knew that there might not be better days for him in terms of his condition. I think he knew that it would be hard for us to find the after time to be “better.” Hearing Chris talk about  this internal struggle made me more able to accept his wish to play the song at his service. 

I’m really struggling right now with missing Chris. Sad doesn’t get close to describing the bleakness. We are functioning. We are putting one foot in front of the other. But at least I cannot find much to be happy about. My mind just wants this to be over and for things to go back to normal. It’s ludicrous but I find myself imploring Chris to COME BACK. It’s been forty days now, that is enough suffering  for me thank you very much. We need you.

Somehow it is already school vacation week. A vacation so soon after the end of the year break is aggravating for working parents in the best of times, and this year it feels like a hell invented especially for me. The childcare will be managed just fine, but the happy plans of normal families untouched by seismic loss are like salt, lemon juice and vinegar poured into my gaping wounds all at once. If we could just keep going with our school routine it would be easier because we are doing relatively ok. Long unscheduled days are not great; it is too quiet now.

People have been extremely kind and have been inviting us for meals and activities, so we’ve been getting through weekends. A group of families in the second grade put together a fun outing for us today on the first weekend of this vacation. They bought us tickets to see The School of Rock at the Boston Opera House followed by a night at a downtown hotel with a pool. Wow. I’m telling you, the generosity of people is humbling... 

The day broke as another perfect blue sky morning. I don’t believe in Chris sending us signs, but I took note of this perfect day and attempted to embrace it. With minimal bargaining I got the kids to agree to going for a walk at some nearby conservation land. It’s a place we have walked frequently for years. I walked there a lot with Nathan strapped to my chest as a baby, and this last year Chris and I walked there frequently. I have returned many times since he died and I remember our walks and talks when I hike the familiar paths. The kids and I had a good time; sometimes silly as when we skidded on the ice-coated hills and sometimes pensive as we talked about Dad. I couldn’t classify this as a better experience than being there with him, but it was a good family time. We even took a few pictures. I’m trying here... Chris was the photographer, not me, but hey I was good for a few selfies today. Afterwards, we loaded up our overnight bags and headed into Boston.

I don’t love driving in Boston, but I have gotten a lot better at it in the last two years since Chris’s tumor returned and his seizures ramped up. He didn’t drive at all for the last year of his life and so there was no choice but for me to do it. I wasn’t too worried today and assumed the Mass Pike and Boston streets would be fairly quiet. We proceeded without issue until we got near the theater district. There was a festival in Chinatown and the streets were jammed. I had planned to find parking on the street but my blood pressure started rising as we sat at multiple intersections without moving for several light cycles. As the clock ticked toward the show start time and I couldn’t turn because there were cars blocking the road I wanted to take, I started to despair a bit.

I can’t do this without you, Chris.

I made a snap decision to head toward South Station instead of my original plan. I pulled some driving moves that I didn’t think I had in me to even attempt and somehow we found a one way street with a parking spot on the left side, on a curve. It took a bunch of tries but I parallel parked and we climbed out to read the street signs carefully. They warned of No Parking for Snow Emergencies, No Parking Except Delivery Vehicles 7am-7pm, Tow Zone! In tiny letters they also said Except Sunday. I clicked the lock button twice, heard the honk, and we headed to the theater so we wouldn’t be late. I tried to act confident, like no problem, the car will not be towed - it’s Sunday! I worried... so did one of my kids. Chris would have laughed at me and assured me it would be fine. Without him, I just started imagining how to go about retrieving a car from an impound lot.

The show was awesome. We sat really close to the front and could see the enthusiasm of the performers. The music was terrific and the show followed the movie characters really closely. It was bittersweet because Chris loved going to musicals and he got a huge kick out of the movie School of Rock, so he would have loved this performance. But we had a good time just the three of us and talked about Dad at intermission. Afterward, we found a coffee bar with nice desserts and enjoyed a treat. Happily the car was not towed. We drove over to the hotel and repeated our search for street parking. Once again I prevailed although it was next to a hydrant, so... I think I left enough space. Tomorrow is a holiday in Boston so I should be able to leave the car overnight. Should.

I really need you, Chris.

We checked into the hotel our friends so generously provided to us. The man checking us in asked me if it was Mrs. or Ms. Davie. Ummmmm. Ms? (I’m very disappointed I didn’t say Dr.) We headed up to our room. I had to concentrate hard to avoid crying. Memories of many trips and hotel stays with Chris were flooding my mind. Honeymoon, road trips, Paris, Switzerland, Orlando, Northampton, Vermont. The kids wanted to swim, so we did. I could not hold the tears in. So many families were there having fun. I did not feel like a fun parent, and there was not enough of me to go around. The kids were great and cooperative, but it used to be so much easier to have one parent stay with one child while the other managed the other kid.

We need you. Come back.

Time was slipping by and I know my kids, they needed dinner to prevent problems. We headed out in search of a good place. The restaurant we chose off my map app was closed for an event. We wandered the streets close by and places were closed or inappropriate. It was quite cold. The kids held it together and we ended up at Chipotle way too late. We ate quietly, all lost in our thoughts.

I cannot do this without you.

Back to the hotel, back to the pool. Bickering over when to leave, who pushed the elevator buttons, then into bed where one of us sleeps alone now. The equilibrium is off... I just cannot fathom doing this for the rest of their childhoods, the rest of my life. I don’t want to! I want Chris to come back. I fear I am not enough without him. I am not fun. I am too worried about things going wrong. It’s too quiet. I’m too broken. They deserve better.

The kids have long been sleeping. Chris died 40 days ago. I don’t know what to do with myself. I see that I CAN do this vacationy stuff alone and also that I have to. We can’t hide out at home forever. I’m grateful to our friends for giving us the chance to find that out. It’s been an important but difficult step forward as my feet feel immobilized in concrete.

It’s just that nothing will ever be a “better thing” without Chris.