I wake to the cries of the mourning doves. Coo, coo, they call. Then the dog’s sigh. He hops up for his morning pets moments after.
How the day starts.
A light frost this morning underscores The Globe’s reporting that the runners in the 130th Boston Marathon will face slightly cooler temps than usual today.
Last week with the race on the horizon, I was prompted to remember that when we toured CU in April 2013, the Marathon Bombing happened. The days that followed were a weird split screen between highlights of the campus and the horror coming out of Boston.
When we landed at Logan we weren’t sure we’d be able to get home. Cabs were not allowed. Busses weren’t running.
We could however retrieve our car. Once off the Turnpike, we drove through the part of Newton that abuts Watertown where an intense police search was going on.
It was spooky. Both towns locked down. Very few cars on the road.
I look back and go, “Huh. So that was Danny’s introduction to CU/Boulder.”
The gorgeous plantings at the Gardner Museum were food for the soul yesterday.
They also pained me as reminders of our trip to a butterfly garden north of Denver about this time last year.
Once again I lament the stupidest things. How I took endless close ups of the tarantulas next door or that I recorded several two-minute videos of fluttering insects. And only these two pictures of Danny. They’re not even decent pictures.
The Italian marble and sculptures also put me in mind of our trip to Rome and Florence in 2024.
He had blond hair that season. I liked it
Today I take Finn to the vet for a check up and finish the Raskin memoir. I might bake some shortbread to bring our neighbor who broke his hip. I don’t know how people get through early grief while working or tending to a family.
Early grief, on-going grief, future grief…how to keep on going. It has been one week today that Rich entered Hospice. Last night it finally wrapped around me that this is good-bye. All of the prior hospitalizations held hope; Hospice holds farewell.
My sister in law called last night to offer prayers while saying, “I know you don;t believe in this”…to which I replied, ” I do believe in prayers for we all pray in our own way, have our own rituals for reaching out to spirit” . We are no longer Catholic, something that has always bothered my husband’s family.. My prayers come in many forms, two of them will be arriving Thursday as our daughters have moved up their visit to be with their Dad and with me.They will still keep their planned visit in May but wanted to be here now. I need to go grocery shopping, looked at a few make ahead recipes…it is what we do, try to keep to a schedule, nurturing, in any way that we can, maintaining the ritual of family….
I’m so sorry Marty. Bittersweet days ahead, days that I’m certain you will handle with grace and warmth.
A couple of weeks ago I got an email from a cousin who sent an evangelical message about Danny reuniting with the Lord, etc. and even though it didn’t match up with my belief system, I was both touched and inspired. Also that tired phrase? “I’m thinking of you,” is no longer tired. In fact it means the world, especially when so many say it that it becomes a collective energy.
Glad that girls are coming early.
I’m thinking of you, of Rich, and of your entire family. ❤️❤️❤️