Chapter 11
December 19, 2007…………Home for the Holidays
I was happy to wake up in New England and the snow covered ground was stunning. I’d forgotten how beautiful freshly fallen snow was, glittering all over the ground, trees and power lines. I lied there thinking about traveling without Red. He loved traveling so much and we always had such fun. It gave us a break from the crowds of people who usually surrounded us. When on vacation, we were happy and relaxed, holding hands and laughing and taking the time alone to appreciate each other.
I smiled when I thought about yesterday’s trip and the angel-stewardess on the airplane. When she asked me what snack I would like I’d happily asked for cookies. I just love the ginger cookies they have on airplanes.
She’d said she was sorry, she didn’t seem to have any, was there anything else I wanted? I told her no thanks, and, as I watched the couple kissing in the seat in front of me I had to fight to keep from sobbing. I had a feeling it would be a long while before I could watch people kiss and not miss my favorite kisser.
A few tears trickled down my cheeks and an avalanche of cookies crashed into my lap. The stewardess had found a hidden supply and gave them all to me. There were 7 packages of melt-in-your-mouth ginger cookies just waiting to sweeten my mood in my lap. She laughed and asked me if that would be enough. I looked up at her and grinned through my tears, “Yes, I think so,” was all I could say.
I spent my first day in New England with my sister and her 5 year old daughter looking at pictures of my childhood. It was nice to go back to those sweet years while sitting in my sister’s lovely home. My life had been on the road with Red for years and I began to realize under the right circumstances being in one place wouldn’t be so bad.
My sister brought out a magazine article written about me in 1989 when I had my spa retail stores in Maine with my first husband. Mainely Tubs had been a huge success, the first spa showroom in Bangor, Maine. I’d opened it when my children started school. Like most things in my life, timing was perfect. I was looking for a job and a friend contacted with a problem:
“Diane, I invested some money in a spa store here in Portland and they’ve gone under. I know you build wooden hot tubs. Would you be interested in helping me sell these?” she asked, hopefully.
“Sure, why not?” I told her. “The Bangor Home Show is coming up in a few weeks. Let me see if I can get a booth,” I loved the idea of working for myself and with my kids starting school I would be looking for something to fill my days.
I got a booth, sold those three spas and took orders for four more. I opened up a store front in 1986 and within three years, I was the largest Hot Spring Spa dealer east of the Mississippi River. I eventually closed one of the locations and sold the other, due to my divorce. As I looked at the article she had handed me a flood of memories came to mind.
One memory which was very vivid was something that had happened during my divorce. I was sitting at my desk when a customer came and I’d been crying. I’d tried to hide the state I was in and he said, “Diane, I know what has happened with you and your husband. I am so sorry. You may not know me. I bought a spa from you when you first opened here. My wife died a couple of years ago and I just want to tell you I think losing your spouse to death is easier than losing them to someone else’s arms.”
I hadn’t thought of that conversation in over a decade. It’s amazing what comes back to you from the past when it is needed most.
“Aunt DD, won’t you color with me now,” my beautiful 5 year old niece asked trying not to be impatient.
“You bet!” was my reply as I wiped away the tears. Coloring with this little angel sounded like the best thing in the world at this moment in time.
December 21st, Sunday
I had already decided I was not going to leave the Northeast without going sliding at least once. When my niece and her daddy got their snow clothes on I asked if I could play too.
“Yes, but you have to wait your turn,” was the only stipulation put on me. I guessed I could wait. Besides, we were only going as far as their side yard. If I got too cold I could always come inside.
The day passed with hot chocolate, more pictures, a movie and a lovely dinner at an Italian Restaurant. When they brought the dinners out we were aghast at the size of the portions. “This is ridiculous,” we all chimed in. I told them, “It reminds me of the joke George Carlin tells about eating at an All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet. He would say, ‘Folks-we shouldn’t be eating all we can eat!’”
We all laughed but as I looked around at the people sitting close to us I hoped they hadn’t heard my joke. Most of the people in the restaurant looked like they spent a lot of time at All-You-Can-Eats.
December 22nd, Monday
I had heard some noises in the middle of the night. It sounded like sick child noises and when I awoke the next morning I recognized the tired look on my sister’s face. She told me her daughter had started vomiting about 10pm and they’d been up all night.
“Looks like it is going to be a quiet Christmas Eve at home,” she explained. I’d been looking forward to the party at her in-laws house, but if we didn’t go, that was ok by me.
I helped her wrap presents in the morning and we all took naps in the afternoon. I awoke from mine to a tapping at the door, “She seems to be fine so we are going to the party. We’d like to leave in about an hour.”
I jumped out of bed happy to be going out, not only to see the family, but to enjoy the holiday season and look at the lights on the way home. It just wasn’t Christmas Eve without driving slowly and appreciating the decorations people put up. Even in the Florida Keys I would pick up my little old lady-friends who couldn’t drive and take them around to see the lights.
I sat in the back with my niece who was excited about playing with her cousins. In amongst her questions about who would be there her father said to me, “By the way, Diane. My mother has a photo she took the day of our wedding. Red was playing his guitar by the fireplace and she thought you would like the picture. She really enjoyed his music. I just thought I would let you know ahead of time.”
I thanked him as the tears rolled down my cheeks. I guess I better get used to these spontaneous waterfalls. Fortunately, I had time to compose myself before we arrived at the party. We walked through the door and were greeted by hugs and Merry Christmases and each time one would greet me, the voices softened and the Merry Christmases were accompanied by condolences.
One of my sister’s brother-in-laws queried, “It’s only been a few months, hasn’t it?” “Actually, only three weeks,” I said.
“Well, I guess there isn’t any good time to die,” he said as he stumbled over his mistake. “Nope, I guess not,” was all I could say.
Some people are very uncomfortable with the topic of death. Some can’t even say the word and stutter all around it.
Others accept death as a part of life. One thing is certain. We are all going to die, eventually. It would be nice if we were more comfortable speaking about death and
dying.
As we were all called in to dinner, the matriarch of the family, who was very heavy, needed help to the table, “I am dying,” she said in a dramatic tone.
“Mom, we are all dying,” one of her sons said. I added, “Yep, we just don’t get to pick the time.” We laughed and ate and I was happy to be part of this family on Christmas Eve.
Later that night, back at my sister’s home, we watched a movie with three distinct messages for me. It was a story about a man with a bad heart, another man who was tormented and killed himself intentionally and another man who killed himself slowly. Without really realizing what they were doing to themselves and to the people in their lives, they were destroying their precious gift of life. We are all dying but if we make the effort to take care of ourselves a little better we just might be able to postpone it for awhile and live a happier, healthier, better quality of life.
Chapter 13
December 27……………………..On My Own Again
My sister dropped me off at the rental car office and I headed north to start my visit in Maine. I would be staying with my parents to begin my frozen north journey. They were not able to make it to Florida for the funeral we’d had for Red and I was looking forward to their hugs.
But first, I had to stop and see Grammie. My father’s mother is in a nursing home and has been slowly fading away for the past few years, losing her eyesight, her hearing and her memory, but for 97 years old, I think she is doing relatively well.
My family has never been the kind to say, “I love you,” and a couple of years ago, I decided I would be the one to start saying it. I don’t think you can say it too often, when it comes from your heart. I truly love my family, I had one of those picture-perfect childhoods, my parents never fought, didn‘t drink, were always there for me. We just didn’t say the words, “I love you.”
I arrived at the nursing home and was allowed in to see my grandmother. For the first time in my life, she didn’t know who I was. I now understand how shocking, odd and sad it feels to have someone you have known your entire life think you are someone else.
“Hello Dorothy. How are you?” she said to me. I smiled and said, “Hi Grammie. I’m not Dorothy, I’m Diane and I am fine. I am your grand daughter and I have two boys. They are fine too. They are 26 and 28 years old now. It’s nice to see you.”
She said, “Oh.” I sat and talked to her for awhile as she listened and nodded politely. I realized she wasn’t really there and I had several miles to drive to get to my folks house for the night so I decided I might as well get going. I leaned over and hugged and kissed her and said, “I love you, Grammie.”
“I love you too,” she said loudly and definitely and I smiled. I believe that was the first time she’d said it, not because she didn’t feel it, but because it was just something we just didn’t say in our family. It sounded so good it brought happy tears to my eyes.
As I drove away I thought about the studies going on for dementia patients and how people who study psychic-stuff say their findings show the spirits of these troubled people occasionally leave their bodies, sometimes, never returning. I wonder if someone else’s spirit had come to me, today, so I could hear the words, “I love you,” come out of my Grammie’s mouth one time before she was gone. I wondered if she would remember me when I visited her next week and whether she would say “I love you,” so quickly.
Much of the rest of my visit to Maine was a flurry of driving here and visiting there and wishing I had arranged to stay longer. Well, not really, as it was cold and getting colder. I had moved to Florida in 1992 because I don’t care for the cold and I hate to shovel snow. I could come back to Maine in the warmer months and enjoy my visit more.
December 28th, Sunday
In order to leave my parent’s home to head north to pick up my youngest son, Jason, I had to help my father shovel the snow in his driveway. Yes, I looked forward to coming back when I didn’t have to deal with elements like these. I’d been to several hurricane parties throughout the years in the Keys and they were much more fun than shoveling snow!
I would spend the night with dear friends in Bangor and Jason was coming over to watch the game with us. The Patriots were going to win, I could feel it!
Jason called while I was driving north on the turnpike through central Maine. How absolutely beautiful the highway can be without billboards. There are no billboards on the highways of Maine just undisturbed trees and wilderness for hundreds of miles. There are a still a couple of sections on the Florida turnpike where you can see the wilderness between the billboards but they are hard to find.
“Mom, do we have to go right to Ithaca or would you like to spend New Years Eve in New York City?” asked my son.
“Who needs a ride there?” I questioned him as I laughed.
“My childhood friend and old room mate from the Keys and another buddy,” he knew I didn’t mind a last minute change of plans. I was always trying to teach him to go with the flow. He knew I would go anywhere he asked, within reason.
“As long as we have a place to stay,” I told him. “Absolutely,” he said, “I don’t think we want to go see the ball drop in Times Square though. They said we would have to get there at least eight hours in advance to get a viewing spot.”
“No, standing on the streets of NYC for eight hours doesn’t sound like much fun. I am sure there will be something in Brooklyn for New Year’s Eve,” I assured him wondering what New York City would be like. It had been many years since I had spent any time downtown.
“Thanks, Mom, can’t wait to see you tonight. I love you,” said my baby. No matter how old your youngest gets they are always your baby. I couldn’t wait to see him either. He came over and we watched the Patriots win again. I told everyone I was sure Red was on the 50 yard line trying to do something to make the Patriots lose. We always had such a rivalry when it came to football and baseball. I would route for New England and he was born in New York.
I picked up Jason at his father’s house the next morning and had a brief conversation with his newest wife. She gave me her condolences and asked if there was anything they could do. I told her the best thing she could do for herself would be to take care of business before her husband died. There was something dreadfully wrong with having to decide on funeral arrangements less than twelve hours after you’ve tried to resuscitate your spouse.
“Oh, my, I guess you are right,” was all she could say. It was all anybody could say. I can’t stress enough, if you love your spouse you must make sure everything is in BOTH of your names and that your arrangements are taken care of long before it is time. We loaded the rest of Jason’s belongings into the car and headed south.
We stopped at the Hertz rental car place in Auburn to add Jason to the contract so he could share in the driving. It was also the perfect place to rendezvous with the boys who needed the ride to NYC. Not only because it was easy to find, but because a friend I had stayed in touch with since I was 13 years old ran the office so we would be able to catch up on life while waiting.
Her husband had had a stroke when they had first gotten together, while doing the same thing Red and I were doing when he died. Only difference is her husband survived. She laughed while she was telling me how she struggled that night to put clothing on his limp body while waiting for the ambulance crew. I’d been too buys doing CPR to worry about Red’s nakedness.
The boys showed up and I drove for the first half of the trip. I asked the young man whose apartment we would be staying at in Brooklyn where I would be sleeping.
“One of my roommates is out of town so we thought you could have his room,” he said, “I don‘t think he’d mind.”
“Well, if he minds I can always use the ‘recently widow-woman’ bit and pull at his heart strings,” I joked.
“Hey. Good idea. Is there any expiration date for using that?” he asked.
I thought for a moment and then answered with a laugh, “I guess I’ll have to drop the ‘recent’ part after awhile.”
He must have felt badly about the joking and added very quietly, “I’m sorry, Diane. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
“No problem. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t think you were being disrespectful. I just thought you
were being your normal, quick witted self,” I told him. I enjoyed spending time with my son and his philosophical friends. They were all quite intelligent and very funny. I’d known them for many years.
We arrived in Brooklyn and hung out, slept a bit, ordered pizza and relaxed. The following day we took naps so we could walk up to Prospect Park later for the New Year’s Eve festivities. It would be fun to see the fireworks and welcome in the New Year with this bunch. It seemed so strange to be doing things like this without Red. Somehow, I don’t think he was far away.
After our naps and a bite to eat we walked the twenty minutes up to the park. It wasn’t too terribly cold and I was surprised at how safe I felt walking in Brooklyn. The people were beginning to gather on hills to locate their perfect viewing spot. You could feel the excitement in the air. One of the boys, along with the rest of the crowd, did a countdown with their satellite watches and cell phones.
The fireworks began at midnight lighting up the sky with promises of a brighter year to come.
To every thing there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1.
NEXT CHAPTER