Back to it

Friends, I do believe you can imagine how dismayed I was yesterday when I called T and Ol from Dallas (en route home) to find that Oliver had come down with a fever and thus wouldn't be going to school today. When Jack and I finally walked in our front door last night (after the most ridiculous cab ride home from the airport during which the driver took us the wrong way twice) at 9p, T gently and apologetically reminded me that he was leaving town today, returning Saturday. The dismay reached a critical point that I'd call WTF depressed. I took a whole Ambien and slept in the basement.

A girl's gotta do...

The house is a wreck, and it was all I could do to cobble together a bag lunch for Jack to take on his field trip today. Oliver is watching TV (I think there will be a lot of that today), and I'm sucking coffee like it's my life-source. That's all I've got for you right now. Don't even get me started on House Repubs.

Heading home

I am so fucking tired. Like deeply,emotionally tired. The kind of tired sleep only gives you a break from but doesn't ameliorate. Tired suffused with sadness and being strong. Tired derived from saying goodbye to Nanny and her home, a home that felt like my own. Mom, Jack and I went over there this morning. It was quiet and empty, and Nanny's smile couldn't greet me. I looked through all her pots and pans, bakers and utensils. While holding each, I remembered with such clarity what Nanny made in each: the oval roaster in which she cooked briskets and roasts; the rounded corner pan in which she made her lemon-lime refrigerator sheet cake; angel food and muffin tins; mixing bowls; ancient tin forks and spoons. Here's the Saltines box I mentioned recently. I'm secretly hoping no one else wants it, because I'd love to have it for my own.

When we got home to finish packing up, I realized I couldn't find my wedding rings. Ten minutes into what seemed like a fruitless search, I realized I was sobbing; the thought of losing something else so special tipped me over the wall of strength I've stood on this past week, and I just couldn't deal with anything else. I combed through last night's shrimp shells (not lovely), all the garbage cans and on and on. Mom finally found them on a windowsill. Now I'm even more tired. And I can't fathom these plane rides home. Send me some good vibes, friends.

Day's done

Did you ever sing that song at camp? Taps?"Day's done. Gone the sun. Through the lakes, through the hills, through the skies. All is well, safely rest. Good night (or god is nigh)."

I always enjoyed singing that at sunset during weeks at summer camp. And it comes to me tonight, after a long and heavy day of reminiscence and goodbye. I gave Jack the option of coming, or not, to everything today: the pre-funeral visitation; funeral; burial; etc. Southern Catholics don't mess around with their funerals; these events are serious time commitments, and I wanted to let Jack feel a sense of control. He opted into everything and was great.

Afterwards, I said he could veg out all afternoon. He played ludicrous amounts of video games and did some reading. I made a lemon meringue pie a la Nanny and my shrimp cassoulet for dinner. Mom, Dad, jack, my aunt Renee and I told stories, ate well and now eagerly, almost desperately, are calling it a day. Mom said I should stop cooking, but that's what I could do, you know?