We’ve been away for a time---an expected time, a dreaded time, a time of joyful reunion and of letting go of the dear Matriarch of our big extended family.
Chris' Mom passed away this week, as we sped down I-65 in hopes of seeing her again, but alas. His brother called with the news, we pulled into the parking lot of a donut shop and Chris called all the children. Then we each ate a donut with sips from a shared carton of milk---a sort of numb, sweet Communion, and drove on.
We arrived too late to speak again, but Chris called her every day---they say you should choose a husband by the way he treats his Mother, and she and I---we two later-life friends, eldest of the lot, have both been extraordinarily blessed.
I'm still so stiff I can hardly move, partly from stress and tension (though it was a FABULOUS time---I cannot tell you what a celebration it was, of a wonderfully-lived life), partly from standing rapt around the huge group of story-tellers gathered around that familiar old kitchen table the night after the funeral, and partly from riding those 1500 miles.
I'm trying to write down all the sayings and the doings while I still have them fairly fresh. Some were so touching and beautiful, from the heartfelt “She’s with GrandDad in Heaven,” to “Do you remember the time . . .?” as a preface to yet another funny remembrance of such a witty, charming, ever-smiling woman, greatly loved and greatly missed.
Every single child, Grand, and Great gathered, along with one tee-ninecy GreatGreat, who wandered amongst us in his just-walking little gait, stepping right out onto the path begun so long ago..
Moire non, for wisps are floating away every second, fleeting as air.