The last few days would have been spent making sure the kids had some plans. I would offer suggestions, contribute funds, and follow up once or twice and then leave it to them to follow through. In their youth, of course, it all fell to me to manage. And manage it, I did. Even after our separation, I continued to be the facilitator and financier. For a while, I was even a participant at one level or another. Eventually, that all subsided as tension took the place of attention, and the bitter taste of resentment overpowered the slightest simple sweetness behind a sincerely intended gesture of goodwill. I don’t recall which year it was, but I vividly recall the first year I made no effort whatsoever to extend a kind thought of recognition. I continued encouraging the kids, but I stopped putting myself out there since it seemed to fall on deaf ears. That is, until her last birthday, which was aggressively recognized, and painful, anticipating that it would be her last. Which it was.
Lauren came home this afternoon from Sacramento. She herself had voiced the desire and intention to visit her mom. Tommy went to the unveiling of a free book loan library today at the preschool where she worked, and Lauren and I dropped off some of her books as a contribution to it after taking flowers to her grave site.
Looking back to 2020, when
things were so fractured and disconnected, then to 2021, when
we knew the window was closing, and then to today, as we recognize her birth for the first time after her death, I see a clear deepening recognition and appreciation amongst us for the limited time and opportunity we have and had. It’s at times like this that I’m grateful for the lessons I learned and continue learning today.
