My dad always says, "you only go around once, so..."
Marvel and I spent the late spring into summer on the highways, skyways and railways, seeing a little of this beautiful country and leaving loss and responsibilities behind for a while. First we took in the Grand Canyon, starting at the North Rim at the end of May when the park had just opened and there weren't many other tourists clamoring around yet. We stayed in a little log cabin that consisted of a bedroom and a bath, but was just a short walk away from the main lodge with its restaurant and fireplaces. And the fireplaces were appreciated as we encountered just enough snow to give us some enchantment on nature paths and provide us an excuse to snuggle in our cabin with the book we were reading together. It was really beautiful. The walks out over the canyon views were breath taking... no other term to better describe them. Depending on the time of day, the colors of the canyon varied from deep green to a sort of lavender hue, and sometimes the winds were so overpowering that we actually turned back before reaching the end of the trail. In fact, I lost a good hat while we were there. We bought it in the gift shop, and not an hour later it lay just over the edge of a cliff, almost within reach, taunting us to come and get it. But we did not. Surely some braver risk taker will happen upon it, or it will blow deeper into the canyon and be found a hundred years from now by a future explorer. Anyway, for a little while it was on me.

Loss

Maybe you can relate to this: everything... I mean everything... the trees, the sky, the bridge over Starcke Park, my living room... everything looks different since DeLois and Leland left.  Loss is so consuming.  We all try to go about the business of taking care of the "things" that must be tended to when a life ends and those left behind must sort through its collection of precious mementos and personal items.  But it is hard.  Delane, Marvel and I exchange emails because our lives are busy, or maybe it's easier to express ourselves.  Jolly phones and flits between her home, DeLois' place, social commitments... she is going through the motions.  Others in the family try to take up their normal "routines"... but it is hard and somehow nothing looks the same and everything is different.  As we go through dishes, knick knacks, pictures and other valued treasures, we are reminded of the lives that meant so much, now ceased, never forgotten, always cherished.  Some of the memories evoked are painful... letters written so long ago and probably not meant to be read now, a drawer of socks, a sister's medication... But there are also delightful and storied memorabilia that sustain us through this time of grief and transition... a crazy hat, a tambourine, a favorite book, a picture or piece of music.  It is as though DeLois and Leland are reminding us to carry on, gather for family events, play dominoes, email and phone... and although without them nothing looks the same, we will soon enough become accustomed to a new outlook, one that includes them and keeps them close in our hearts.

Retirement for Two

Now we are BOTH retired... and tired! Marvel didn't learn from my exhausting experience in the retirement rat race. Just like me, he's "hit the ground running," trying to do it all the first two weeks of his new status. The normal trauma of this life transition has been compounded by the loss of his eldest sister DeLois and his brother Leland. He is charged with managing Dido's estate and has taken this and a landscaping project on full force, as though there were an impending deadline for these tasks. Well, I suppose for the one, there is. We have also managed to make two trips in just a couple of weeks: one to the hill country, the other to Ft. Worth. I'm not sure this state of eternal days in the sun will stick, though. Every time I introduce Marvel to someone as "retired," he corrects me and says he is "between jobs." Seems a bit tentative to me.

Wide Awake in the Land of Nod

I usually watch television well beyond a reasonable time to turn in. That's because unless I get really tired and hypnotized by the tube, I just can't seem to fall asleep. Tonight an old episode of "Friends" was on, and I was almost there in the Land of Nod when that stream of "conscience" or unconscious thought started... and there I was: Wide Awake. After thinking about every problem possible in my own personal life (foremost: what to DO with my life now that I'm retired), I decided to turn to my computer for solace, company and distraction.
About a year away from the end of my 33 year teaching career, I started pondering what to do with myself. I certainly have enough family involvement to keep me busy. Top of the list is my brand new and only grandchild, Sarah Elizabeth. It was the anticipation of her birth that inspired me to get off the treadmill of teaching high school journalism and advising three staffs of the student press. I loved those kids on the newspaper, yearbook and broadcast crews, but I began to recognize that life was not infinite, that I was not invincible, and that my time to be with Sarah Beth, her mother, her father, my father and stepmother... but mostly my best friend and soul mate, captain of my ship, my husband Marvel... was ticking by. I decided I needed to jump off that endless, repetative path that I knew so well, and get started on a journey with a new destination.
So, it's 3:20 in the morning and I'm exploring how I might spend some of my sleepless nights more productively. Perhaps sleep deprivation will help me choose the right direction.   Anyway, it's got to be more useful than watching re-runs of "Friends" episodes... and, afterall, I don't have to get up for school in the morning.