“Hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.”
–Emily Dickinson
A very brief one this morning, with a deposition starting in a few minutes.
Clear and a million out there this morning, and cooler behind the storm. Hoping this weather hangs in there long enough for me to pick up the Columbia and fly to Florida after the depositions.
But it was probably best I was waylaid here for an extra day. I managed to get a little work done, and drove up to see my mother's widower late yesterday afternoon. He handed me a Shiner Bock as I walked through the door; Bobby always remembers that I was fond of Shiner back in the day, and when I come see him he always has a cold six pack in the fridge.
We talked about boat engines and adjusting the points on a Jaguar XKE, and how old tractors started on kerosene and ran on gasoline. But then the talk transitioned to the emptiness of the big house without Mom, the constant reminders of her in the little statuettes on the mantel and antique art on the wall. He lost his first wife to cancer after thirty years, then was married to Mom for the same amount of time before she died. He commented that you figure you know what's coming if you've been through all this before, but really you don't. We're coming up on the first anniversary of Mom's death, and this is the first time he's exposed the grief he carries around every day.
Afterward I drove to the columbarium to sit for a few minutes and try to feel like Mom's there. It's a lovely spot in a church courtyard, with running water trickling through the space. I can't say I felt any mystical presence, but I knew I'd regret it if I left her here without stopping to visit. Which of course is kind of crazy.
When I arrived back at Dad and Johnnie's, Denise, her mom, and Denise's youngest boy were in the kitchen watching a movie and drinking. Dad was awake, so I sat on the arm of the couch where he was curled up under a blanket, turned Fox News down below a hundred decibels, and we just talked about all he'd achieved and how he'd done his best for his kids and it all had worked out in the end, despite everything. It's the longest conversation of substance we've had in a very, very long time. There was a sort of peace in the room as I left, and I figure maybe he could feel it too because he fell dead asleep.
Johnnie stirred him to sit up and eat a pork chop, then put him back on the couch and curled up on the floor below him. They both fell back asleep.
Denise and I sat up late and talked about the things we'd seen and gone through growing up in this tumultuous household. Some of it I heard for the first time. There are not many folks who can share your story going back forty-five years, but really it's two stories that wove together for a time, then drifted apart only to meet periodically on holidays as our kids went from diapers to making their way in the world. Now we're back to dealing with diapers, and sensing our time is short. Her father passed away maybe a month ago.
Time to get ready for these depositions. I'll take one, then opposing counsel, whom I've known for going on thirty years, will depose my clients. Both of us tend to work from the stretch rather than the windup, so I'm hoping I'll be taking my lunch at 9,000 feet.
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