Tuesday was a day of arrivals. DA Girl came first, bringing her light, laughter, excitement, and energy. I have known her decades, sharing every detail of my life as we raised our kids and ourselves through the years. We would have long visits every five weeks, right on schedule. I would save up the most important events to tell her and she would remember, with that steel trap brain of hers, right where we left off. She is the sweetest and most genuine friend a girl could have, my DA.
CC and DA have become friends now, so, the three of us would be staying in the house together. The kids and grand kids would find bunking at the local hotel. It just worked that way with bed space and bathroom accommodations, and everyone was gracious and accepting of our plan.
After T and K arrived with their families, there came a whirlwind of final tasks being completed. The RV barn became a thing of beauty with light blue tables and manly-man centerpieces all ready for guests. On the rungs of an 8 ft. ladder, lay the educational achievements of VST, with his Doctoral Hood, Mortar Board, and gown hanging from the top. His portable table saw held family photos and mementos. Even the snow shovel from VC made the cut.
The walls of the RV barn were now a tapestry of my favorite pictures from the house. Our life was splattered on those high walls. The five kids and their Senior pictures. VST and I on our wedding day, and from that day on. Pictures chronicling our growth and the deepening of that young love that started on a prayer, and ended so cruelly at Cancer’s whim. The whole story was told on the walls.
In weeks prior, each day, I would find myself taking another thing out of the house and hanging it up in the barn. Assessing my progress, I wanted to be sure that every year together was remembered and shared on July 15th. The Sunday before, when I was alone in the barn, having made many trips carrying more and more memorabilia, I crumpled, like a wad of paper. As hiccuppy tears ran down the ugly cry face, it hit me. I was bringing more and more things to collectively represent what I lost when he left. I could cover the 20 x40 wall with every last picture I owned. VST was gone and not going to magically appear when I had just the right number. A cry I won’t ever forget, a widow’s moment so private and tortured, we will let it rest.
With family and friends now in place, and the biggest Round Table package I could order, everyone was eating, laughing, and enjoying each other. Gal in Grace came over to add to the fun. It was as if time had somehow gone back to happier days, with stories and memories overflowing. The grand kids were so perfectly beautiful, each one coming to hug me in just their own way, wide eyed and happy to help. I could feel VST’s pride as he watched this unfold.
Some of our were kids and grand kids were missing, stolen by Covid’s threat. Distance and travel requirements made their presence impossible, and they were deeply missed. We embraced those present and remembered those that were unable to attend, while filling our faces with the best pizza ever.
Finally, the moment I had been awaiting arrived. Through the years, we had collected pictures. Hundreds of them. I had prepared two packets of very special pictures for T and K. Here’s the deal. In a regular family, possessions and pictures are collected from the beginning. There’s no question of their dispersal when the time comes. Everything belongs to everyone. In a blended family, the rules are a bit different. VST and I joined after the kids were born. Some belongings that I cherished for 32 years were not mine to keep. They belonged to the kids. VST’s family heirlooms belonged to his children, not me.
The most precious of these were their baby pictures. Before another hour went by, those pictures would be in the hands of their rightful owners, safe and sound.
As packages were presented and opened, the scene became magical. Everyone clustered together looking at pictures never before seen. OOhhhhh’s and AAAhhh’s from the kids (who are not kids, but very grown-up adults), and grand kids (aged 10-19). Every age found something fascinating. The GK’s were wanting to know stories while the kids were happily sharing them. The love on the patio that summer evening was the most healing thing we all needed. At that point, VST was weeping softly, his heavenly tears felt in my heart. This was a moment from that week that is among the most precious we created. It comforts me on nights that sleep eludes me. It was the first time I saw with my own eyes, physical embodiment of the word FAMILY and the one we had created over the years against all odds. More precious than all the treasures VST left me to care for. This one is eternal.
That Tuesday night, we stood on the Threshold of Wednesday morning in a mass of hugs and tears. Ready or not, there was no turning back.
To Be Continued…………..