Spring Break and Healing

I haven't cried since Friday before last. I wasn't even home from work that day before I started feeling anxious and jumpy. I totally overreacted when I couldn't track Grace down by early evening. I was clearly off-kilter, and felt my own wild-eyed-ness. I cried with panic, then sobbed angry about the ridiculous panic, then I cried with shame for crying so long. My eyes were still messed up on Monday; the old skin doesn't spring back like it used to.

But that day passed, and two more weeks since. In the meantime I've been communicating with the recipient of David's heart. We've texted and emailed and talked on the phone once. Next Sunday we are planning to meet at In Celebration and Remembrance at Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden. I'm trying to hold my expectations for that day with an open, yielded hand.

I've made it through the school year to Spring Break. For the first time in my life, I've planned a trip to visit a slew of family and friends. I will visit with six first cousins, at least six second cousins, and many other kinda-like-cousins, some of whom were among the hundreds at David's memorial service. Some drove hundreds of miles just to give me a hug and remind me that they were my family. I hadn't seem some of them in decades.

One woman I hope to see is my "Aunt" Lynne. She's married to "Uncle" Fats and they have four kids, none too far from me in age. I will be staying with Susan, which is a little ironic, because it was her brothers I knew better growing up. Susan has three older brothers; I was closest in age to the middle brother. He was in my grade at school from the sixth grade until the eleventh grade and we lived a few blocks down the street from each other. Uncle Fats was a close friend of my father's, like a brother.

This family lived a life that seemed idyllic to me as a child. I'm sure they had their family problems, but I don't think I ever heard Uncle Fats say a harsh word. I'm sure I've never heard Aunt Lynne speak with anything but pride about her family. In fact, I remember hearing my dad ask her to please take a night off from talking about her kids. They were like a white Huckstable family (The Cosby Show), with a little dash of Family Guy thrown in - just to keep it interesting. Aunt Lynne has a Boston accent, though she hasn't lived there for more than fifty years.

About four years ago Susan's husband died suddenly at work from a massive heart attack. He left her with four young sons. When Susan looked me in the eye after David's memorial, I instantly remembered. I had bought a sympathy card for her but couldn't mail it. I remember thinking it seemed so shallow to send words in a clean white envelope, as if that could help. I never sent the card and I've felt guilty ever since.When I confessed my regret to her, Susan told me she's never been able to open the first card, so never knew. Why do I still spend time and energy worrying about insignificant crap?

Oh well, one foot in front of the other. Now it's time for bed.

xxoo