Happy Birthday!!! I wanted to write to you but I didn't know where to send the card. I don't know what happens after the last breath leaves the body but I hope there is something else. Some people believe in the Golden Streets of Heaven theory, and I kind of wish I did (the idea of seeing you in your Knightsbridge trousers and one of those knit shirts you always liked is a wonderful thought), but I don't. So, I'm going to go with the crazy ass idea that maybe you read my blog. No, I don't use language like crazy ass all the time.
I'm okay. After you left, there were times I didn't know if I was going to be okay. I missed you calling me in the morning to help you with the jumble, and calling at night to see if the house was locked up. I wanted to just KNOW where you were. It was a hard time. Mom (Hi mom!) came up to live by us, and Jay and I would go get her several times a week and take her to the pet shop and the Galaxy Diner and the museum (I'm sure she's filled you in on all this). Her memory was shot, and she hated the place where she lived. It got better as her memory got worse. She liked it okay after awhile. Do you remember how she used to stand on the porch in Topeka and watch the storms come in? You and I would be in the basement and she would be in the wind and the rain looking for the tornado to reach down from those black clouds. And you could not get her down those stairs until she was ready. That's how it was. She was adamant that she wanted to GO HOME and she was NOT going to stay in that place. She had a nice, studio apartment in the Alzheimer unit but every time Jay and I showed up, she would have every single item in the room packed up and stacked by the door. "I'm ready to go now" she would say and Jay would look at me like SOMEONE must be crazy but he couldn't figure out who. She was there four years. At the very very end, when she forgot how to eat and it was really tough, she still smiled at me. I'm glad she's with you now.
There are some things I do because of you. I garden. Man, the garden is awesome. You would love it. I have all kinds of vegetables, although I did not grow okra. I could never stand it when mom made it. it's slimy, dad. Really. I make you zucchini bread every year with zucchini from the garden and send it up to you on November 1st, The Day of the Dead AND the day you died. I hope you can at least smell it. Barry made pasta last night with a sauce filled with yellow squash. I call it "squarsh" the same way you used to and Jay gets irritated at my butchering of the English language. When I say, "that's the way your grandpa said it" he smiles.
I also try to be a good person. I think I'm at about 80/20. You were always honest. You were always good to people and down to earth and dependable. Also, you were always curious about the world. You said once that you wished you had been able to go up in a spaceship and see the world from that high. You liked people and people liked you back. I'm working on all that. Except the spaceship thing.
Jay is a good boy. You would be proud of him. He is a basketball player and he does well in school. I still want to get him out golfing more. Remember when we used to all go golfing, you and mom and me? You guys would let me drive the golf cart even though I was too young and we'd go flying over those rolling fairways. Remember when we were staying in that hotel on our way to California to see Aunt Etha (Hi Aunt Etha!) and you and I crept out into that onion field early in morning while mom finished packing and we filled a paper sack with onions? And how six hours later after being the the sweltering trunk, they stunk so bad we had to throw them out? And wash EVERYTHING when we got to Etha's. Hahaha. That was funny.
Barry is my boyfriend. You would like him. He is good to animals and he taught Jay to play backgammon. He makes pottery on a wheel and you would love to watch him make something. It starts out as this lump of clay and then spins around and turns into bowls and cups. The clay seems like it has a life of it's own as it thins out and moves like liquid into a taller, finer shape. He is good to me. I know that's the thing that would matter the most to you. But he's also fun, and funny, and smart.
I work at Starbucks. I know that would be a-ok with you. You never had big aspirations for me, but work ethic was important to you. Sometimes I have to be at work at 4:15 am. Yes, I get up that early. Yes, I know you would not believe it. I also teach
poetry at the college. Dad, my first book was published a year and a half ago. You would have given a copy to all your friends. You would have been very proud. Jay's on the cover.When you died my friend Kate gave me this poem written by a little girl. I liked it and I've kept it and it's on my fridge. I thought you might like it. Somehow it made it easier for me. It's strange what makes things easier for people. It's all so different for everyone. This was one of mine......
When someone dies, a cloud turns into
an angel, and flies up to tell God
to put another flower on a pillow.
A bird gives the message back to
the world, and sings a silent prayer
that makes the rain cry. People disappear,
but they never really go away.
The spirits up there put the sun to
bed, wake up the grass, and spin the earth
in dizzy circles. Sometimes you
can see them dancing in a cloud during
the day-time, when they're supposed to be
sleeping. They paint the rainbows
and also the sunsets and make waves
splash and tug at the tide. They
toss shooting stars and listen to wishes.
And when they sing windsongs,
they whisper to us,
don't miss me too much. The view is nice
and I'm doing just fine.
Well, that's about all. I know there's so much more I'd like to say but I think I covered the basics. I have some great friends, I really like the town I live in, and I think about you guys a lot. I feel very grateful for this life. I miss you. Today is your birthday. I don't ever forget.
ox.
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