I lost VST in a car crash of sorts. Cruising down the road, always at the speed limit, life was just fine. Beautiful Nevada roads. We first noticed a few bumps. Then, swerved to miss a pot hole or two. Pretty soon, we were on washboard gravel roads, still cruising way to fast. An up and a down, a zig and a zag, violently, we lost control and hit cancer head on. He was gone, I survived. Only twelve doctor visits took him from not feeling great to dead. Our fatal crash with a killer disease stole him.
With deafening silence and all the time in the world to think, I made many decisions based on the facts I had to deal with. There couldn’t be a memorial in three days, or even three weeks, but, in three months, we would arrive at VST’s 66th birthday. This would be the perfect day to celebrate him with family and friends. The yard at Winterpast would be in all her glory. It would give travelers time to plan, and me time to compose myself just a bit. I could finish moving and get settled in. For me, the three month plan was an easy decision. One of the easier ones I faced.
I got to work on my monthly planner and made goals needed reaching. No whining. Nothing other than meeting these goals would be acceptable. If I did that, the memorial day would come and it would be glorious. I started with one foot in front of the other.
As people called to offer thoughts, prayers and comfort, I would mention that the memorial was going to be on July 15th. As the information was shared, the date was non-negotiable. A finish line was in sight, and I worked towards it every day.
In three months, I finished packing, moved all remaining boxes to storage, (this, aside from what the movers took, was 350 in number), dealt with a title company in Reno, (inept), a realtor in Carson City, (precious), a realtor in my new town, (adorable), a title company in my new town, (professional), a handyman, (a poor thief that got caught), agreements, signings, and Covid.
There was cremation, death certificates, urns to buy, and notices to send. There was an obituary to write. A biography to pen. 350 pictures needed for a memorial book. Friends to tell, usually talking while holding my phone to my shoulder with a crooked neck while multi-tasking.
There were professional movers, (based in Las Vegas — 6 hours away), new neighbors, (the best), old neighbors, (heartrendingly sad), hours of driving, more hours of crying, packing, unpacking, throwing away, disconnecting services, beginning services, choosing internet, returning ATT equipment, (one of the worst), and dealing with a puppy that didn’t quite understand.
There were decisions, on top of decisions, all dependently intertwined. Goodbyes. Hello’s. Discovering a new town, saying Goodbye to an old one. Purchasing a set of tires. Grooming a 1/2 acre yard. Purging and purchasing. Contracting our beloved RV to be sold in another state on consignment. Selling the rig and nervously awaiting the check in the mail from strangers that are now friends and heroes. All while figuring out how to live alone for the first time in my adult life. There were nights of dreamless sleep in a dark, endless void. Planning a memorial fit right in.
The weeks leading up to 7/15 gradually became routine. There was time for everything, and I did everything in time. The kids and girlfriends came for visits that were my oxygen. The house came together, appearing as if VST and I had lived there all along. And slowly, details for the Memorial were in place. I had chosen one of my favorite pics of VST and used that for everything. It was taken on a trip to Hawaii, and caught his expression just so. The tender, wonderful man with the kind eyes and the cutest smile. The picture held it all.
Because the service would be in my back yard, it was necessary to limit the number of guests. The memorial became an Invitation Only affair. Invitations were ordered from an online service. Double sided, ocean themed, and beautiful, complete with envelopes. These days, there is no excuse not to create stuff online. Quick, easy, and done in less than 30 minutes. The invitations were sent out June 13th, and the countdown was in full swing. So was Covid.
In a few days, I started getting hear breaking phone calls. Even though the service was outdoors, of 70 people invited, 1/2 didn’t feel comfortable coming to our home to say Goodbye to VST. Understandable, but a loss so sad. I was finally ready to invite people into my space to help my heart heal, and they couldn’t come because of a virus. Slowly, my guest list shrunk to 35 VIP’s of the most precious kind.
Each week, the house became more organized. Oliver was settling into our routine, and loved his springtime yard, complete with grass to romp upon. Trees leafed out, Irises were blooming throughout. Peonies, with their delicate pink petals, fragrance, and color became my favorite of all flowers. I didn’t know I needed them in my life before the first bloom. My sweet neighbor, T, had chairs and tables ready to lend. Dollar Tree provided many essentials, although I still couldn’t visualize where we would eat.
Upon hearing of my dilemma , a BESTie suggested I use the empty RV barn, vacant since the rig had been sold. The “barn”, (a completely finished garage for an RV) was cleaned and arranged with tables and chairs. It was the perfect place for guests to get away from the sun and visit. The walls were adorned with favorite family pictures and mementos from VST’s full and amazing life. Everything from his high school yearbooks, to his cap, gown, and hood from his doctoral ceremony were there. High school letterman’s jacket, next to favorite snow shovel. Pictures of the kids. Pictures of us. Just like that, the RV barn became a shrine to a beautiful life. I was one week out, and right on schedule.
Time and Memorial –Part 2 — tomorrow!
Thank you so much for reading my blog. It is making so many dreams come true. If you like my writing, please share this address with friends and family. Please contact me at Gg202071548@gmail.com. I would love to hear from you!!!!