Another 4th of July
has rolled around as we continue the second calendar cycle without Chris. It
was never a big holiday for us, but of course we always had time together as a
family. We often camped, as Facebook thoughtfully reminded me today, presenting
me with a photo album we put together entitled Franconia Fun on the 4th! Looking at those young, happy faces sitting on flat rocks in the river nearly
broke my heart.
07-04-2015
Ah, to go back to that weekend
even for a few minutes... I made Chris stretch his comfort zone at a campground
without running water and he never let me forget that he didn’t particularly enjoy
that aspect of the trip in general, and especially not the fact he baited hooks and took fish
off the line without a faucet for washing up. I never let him forget that it
was a terrific campground with trails, a river, and mountains just steps away and
it had a vacancy when all other places were filled. Certain people did not get
enough sleep and were notoriously unpleasant on the last morning.
Despite the less than ideal
points of the trip, I can see in my mind’s eye many vivid, wonderful images. There
was an 8 year-old boy riding his bike around the paved loop, thrilled at his
growing independence. I smile at the tiny preschool girl gently putting
her baby dolls to bed in the tent. The mountain loomed dark yet benevolent
above the central field as dusk settled in, and water rushed wildly over rocks
polished smooth by decades, if not centuries or millennia, of that same river
running in the same location. The flicker of the dying campfire held only the
promise of marshmallows to be roasted and not a hint of mournfulness that it was
near its end.
Yes, we had our moments of
difficulty as there were bound to be with over-tired young children, but I
remember how it felt to be wrapped in the comfort of our family of four. It is
beautiful to remember and simultaneously terrible that it is now out of reach.
By now this is a familiar, striking
contrast of emotions - thankful that it happened, devastated that it’s over. Two
feelings right at the same time.
...
Tonight, I sit in the comfort of
my porch and am profoundly grateful that it is not last year. Oh, last 4th
of July was an epic disaster. I thought it would be a good idea to take the
kids and puppy camping. Alone. (What was I thinking?!?!)
On that particular holiday
weekend, the temperature neared 100 degrees. The campground beach was closed
due to high bacteria counts, the pup was on high alert at the activity around us,
and nobody cheerfully helped me so I was physically exhausted. There was
basically only one thing to do that everyone agreed on - while the kids biked,
I walked countless loops on the campground road with Phoenix, openly
weeping. Tears coursed down my face and sobs caught in my throat; I
didn’t care who saw me because my only thoughts were of the past and how it was
not to be anymore… To cap it off, we tried to put the kayaks in a lake near the campground but failed due to jammed parking lots. We ended up with a
consolation prize DQ trip and then threw in the towel after just one night.
It is hard to remember that trip without
castigating myself for the enormous flop.
But still… Look how far we have
come. Just look, once again! All of us have grown immensely. Sure, the dog is no longer a
puppy and is now nearly 70 pounds and each child has shot up a handful of inches,
but what is more significant is that each of us possesses new coping mechanisms
and we (mostly) enjoy more sophisticated dynamics to our family.
And then again, Chris is still
gone. We miss him so much it cuts to the bone, our hearts quite literally hurt.
Terrible. Beautiful. Terrible. Just
like that awful broken solar light outside the hospice room. I have no more
control over the oscillation of feelings than I did over the annoying, random
flashes of light that taunted me as sleep remained elusive and the end drew
ever nearer…
...
Today a friend’s spouse died after
a long experience with cancer. It is not my story to tell nor my loss to grieve,
but the news nearly gutted me. I am filled with awe and gratitude for this
couple’s grace under pressure and the strength of their tight-knit family. At
the same time, I am slain by a deep cavern of devastation. There are simply no
words to mourn the severing of this well-matched pair. My friend will now have to
walk a lonely path through shattering loss.
...
Life - what a terrible, beautiful
mess.
No comments:
Post a Comment