The hubs and I drive west on the interstate toward the farmers' market. A couple of weeks ago we drove the same route to the Uptown Art Fair. We have driven this route more times than I can begin to count over the last 7 or so years. This time it feels so very different, a huge change.
And now our journey is over. Or at least the routine has changed. Forever.
We've driven to a senior residence where our loved ones lived for so many of their last years. Norman was there first and ended up staying, living his last years in memory care. Brenda went into assisted living 5 years ago and last December after a fall that was devastating, she moved into memory care. Her last four months were in hospice. And she moved to heaven a few weeks ago. We were not blood, but she called us their "appointed family."
Twice a week for years now. Twice a week I would drive to see her. On Mondays after I taught my yoga class I would go by myself for what she called our "girl visits." Fridays the hubs and I would go together and take a pot of coffee (she hated the stuff made at the residence) and a small nip of Irish for her to enjoy for what she said was her "happy hour" to start the weekend. Many visits we would stroll down two levels to see Norman until 2020 when Covid took him quickly. The same route, the same routine and as happens when death steps into the picture, the routine changes the route drastically.
Everything changes now. What was routine for so long is now left to the ambiguous.
The homeless man on the exit off Penn avenue...when will I/we see him again? We have things for him every trip...hand and toe warmers for his shoes, blankets we get from others who pass them along to us so that we may donate to the people on the exits. We have socks, hats and gloves we get from Costco in bundles and keep in the back of our cars to give out to the homeless. Sweatshirts, sweaters and donated coats, protein bars and water...the backseat is always full of things to pass along. The gentleman at Penn was always so very grateful and thanks us...who will bring him things this coming winter to keep him safe and warm?
Because now the route is done. It has all changed.
Walking with grief is a precarious path. There is the road we take that lets us sigh that enormous sigh that they are at peace. The hard fight is over and they are light and young again laughing and enjoying reunions with loved ones. There is the path left to walk that is a roller coaster of sorts. The racing to the bottom of the hill in a feeling of blurring speed to get arrangements handled and contacts made. The slow purposeful climb up the hill feeling in dealing with endless paperwork and detail. The numbness of going through belongings left; items once treasured that now have no home or meaning it seems. The emptiness of standing at the cemetery wondering which spot they will be in.
There are those moments that are enveloped in grief that you want to laugh at the absurdity of some things and yet you wonder to each other if it would be disrespectful to utter that chuckle. The solemn discussion with a funeral director that our beloved "appointed family" members wanted to be co-mingled and he informs you that you need to shop for an urn online because they don't have companion urns at the funeral home. Questioning where to look, he suggests you start looking first on Amazon, maybe Costco or Target or Walmart. And on the drive home, the hubs and I agree that you just can't make this up...shopping for a final resting spot online.
The sincere, beautiful, loving compassion and empathy shown by every single government worker we came into contact with who helped with scheduling the interment at the national cemetery. She wanted to honor his naval service during World War II. She spoke often of the beautiful ceremony that would be a "send off." But in her detailed instructions to me regarding their final resting arrangements she was specific that they NOT be put in the ground. "If you can find a spot there NOT in the ground, that would be lovely!"
And we did. But, sweet sufferin' jazus the hurdles to get there...
And with each hurdle, we encountered another pitfall and another kind soul to soften that fall. Kind people who offered condolences and called after their work hours to let us know that the next step had been completed and it would not be much more on the path to getting them interred. Government employees who, I am quite certain, encounter loved ones grieving who probably shout, swear and berate them in frustration. And they, every single one, were so kind and patient with our questions and constant calls.
And in all of this, when will we have time to grieve...
And how will it play out?
I remember when my parents died, six months apart, I was in constant motion until right after we sold the house and the hubs and I returned from a vacation away. He asked me about planting hostas behind the deck and I told him of a specific type I wanted there. When he asked where we'd get them, I replied "I'll have to call my mom and ask where she found hers." His jaw dropped. As will happen, you forget that they are gone from earth and make a statement like that. They had been gone almost a year and it was the first time I'd done that.
The wheels came off the cart at that point and I was a hot mess for months. I sat and watched Dr. Phil for a solid month...that tells you how bad it was :)
So how will it play out now that we do not make Friday trips to Brenda with coffee and Jameson? How will our days feel in a few weeks when they are interred and the ceremony is done and we toast them one last time with family and friends? How will that feel to embrace that void?
There will be a lot of paperwork and such. There are only a few material items left to sort through. A new routine. A new path. Conversations with them both will be one-way. But we are blessed with their family as our own now.
As life paths play out, people come and go. Some of them have been lessons, some foundations, some blessings. Brenda's two octogenarian sisters could not be more a part of our heart if we were blood, as well as their families. Norman's niece and nephew are new to us but quickly have become a lovely part of our lives.
But, if you have never grieved, never truly felt it...you've never truly and deeply loved.
