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Just Yesterday
Jan. 15th, 2018 06:37 pmThis afternoon, I drove into the city to the house on Mooney Avenue. I shoveled the sidewalks and front steps, which had the 14" of snowfall on them from earlier this weekend.
Following Martin Luther King Day, today, school will be back in session tomorrow and I wanted the walks to be cleared, at least in front of the house I own, for the kids returning to class.
Because there was ice on a lot of it, I opened the 5 gallon bucket of sand on the front porch and only then remembered that I needed to refill it.
Which meant taking a break and going to Lowe's, a couple of miles down the highway on that side of town.
After sanding everything down, I took the back way home through the city. Which took me past the cemetery where we'd had my wife's one-year memorial just yesterday.
So I stopped there and paid my respects, retracing our recent steps through the deep snow. On the surface of it, near the headstone, I could still see where the Priest had strewn the customary almonds and honeyed wheat.
Then I drove a couple of sections over, and towards the back, to her mother's and father's gravesites. Which is something I always do when I visit hers.
I never knew her dad, who died when she was six, but I always take a minute to update them on whatever family things I think might matter to them.
On my way home, I picked up an early dinner at McD's and decided to give Ridley Scott's A Good Year another chance, and I'm sort of glad that I did. I guess the lemon that I'd been sitting on, when I watched it last week, must've finally run out of juice.
Even so, it's been a very rough week because it's hard not to remember things from this time a year ago. Especially about this night which turned out to be my last sleeping in the lounge while our oldest daughter took the overnight shift, at her mother's bedside in the ICU.
It's hard not to remember being awakened, early that morning, with the news that she was failing and that our other daughter, who lives on the other side of town, had been called and was on her way in.
I remember the details of it, some of them anyway, as if it were yesterday, and can't decide, even now, if I should try to remember all of it and, in that way, pay homage to her struggle.
Or if I should just, you know, in the natural course of things, allow myself to forget.
And in that way to finally allow her, and myself, our needed rest...
LPK
Dreamwidth
1.15.2018
Following Martin Luther King Day, today, school will be back in session tomorrow and I wanted the walks to be cleared, at least in front of the house I own, for the kids returning to class.
Because there was ice on a lot of it, I opened the 5 gallon bucket of sand on the front porch and only then remembered that I needed to refill it.
Which meant taking a break and going to Lowe's, a couple of miles down the highway on that side of town.
After sanding everything down, I took the back way home through the city. Which took me past the cemetery where we'd had my wife's one-year memorial just yesterday.
So I stopped there and paid my respects, retracing our recent steps through the deep snow. On the surface of it, near the headstone, I could still see where the Priest had strewn the customary almonds and honeyed wheat.
Then I drove a couple of sections over, and towards the back, to her mother's and father's gravesites. Which is something I always do when I visit hers.
I never knew her dad, who died when she was six, but I always take a minute to update them on whatever family things I think might matter to them.
On my way home, I picked up an early dinner at McD's and decided to give Ridley Scott's A Good Year another chance, and I'm sort of glad that I did. I guess the lemon that I'd been sitting on, when I watched it last week, must've finally run out of juice.
Even so, it's been a very rough week because it's hard not to remember things from this time a year ago. Especially about this night which turned out to be my last sleeping in the lounge while our oldest daughter took the overnight shift, at her mother's bedside in the ICU.
It's hard not to remember being awakened, early that morning, with the news that she was failing and that our other daughter, who lives on the other side of town, had been called and was on her way in.
I remember the details of it, some of them anyway, as if it were yesterday, and can't decide, even now, if I should try to remember all of it and, in that way, pay homage to her struggle.
Or if I should just, you know, in the natural course of things, allow myself to forget.
And in that way to finally allow her, and myself, our needed rest...
LPK
Dreamwidth
1.15.2018
