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.”
Sunday in Boston: the gorgeous plantings at the Gardner Museum were food for the soul.
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.
And it wasn’t just the plantings at the Gardner that got me. Italian marble and sculptures put me in mind of our trip to Rome and Florence in May of 2024.
He had blond hair that season. I liked it. Danny was relaxed and engaged for those eight days. It was such a good trip.
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. ❤️❤️❤️
(((Marti)))
The way we wrap are arms around each other here is nothing short of WONDERFUL!! Love to you Dee .. Love to you Marti .. love love love to all us lucky duckies to have found this beautiful space to be and share are thoughts and feelings. Such a Blessing!!! The pictures of the flowers AMAZING!! The picture of Danny with that blonde hair and rosy cheeks smiling for the camera .. priceless.
It is a blessing. One I can carry in my pocket.
I haven’t been able to put my arms around the scope of your loss, but you already know how people carry on. They do what they must. Life has slim consideration for the needs of those best beloveds left behind.The why and the how no longer matter. Others turn to you for strength even though you can hardly hold up your head. Jobs won’t wait. Bills need paying. Cat boxes need cleaning, flat tires need..On and on life goes. Whatever rituals work for you, please remember those are your minutes, hours, and days that you are stacking.
I cleaned the downstairs bathroom today. I like to do it on Mondays. Dishes, vacuuming, windexing glass — all provide ballast.
Sometimes the days just don’t know where to go.
I just received your book and am looking forward to reading it.
I was struck with a deep sadness reading the lower left on the back cover.
Thinking of you navigating through all this uncharted territory.
What? The “mother of two grown sons” part? I just deleted that phrase from my fb page.
Yeah. How life can be so full of promises one minute and so devastating the next.
We never know what’s coming at us.
Dee~ Oh those purple flowers are a balm for the soul!
When I saw the first pic of Danny, his pensive face studying the butterfly enclosure…the thought that came to mind was: to see the world through his eyes. I think it is a very good photo, unposed and intimate.
How we go on is, as others have said, just in the days and daily needs of ‘life’, for what else are we to do? I feel like the “getting through days” – the early days eventually become a blur, but a blur where certain things stick or stand out and those are the memories that our hearts can hold long term.
I had lunch with my friend, who’s son died at 12 years old, 12 years ago…to listen to her tell me about where she is now, 12 years later, gives me hope for you and your processing of Danny’s death. Not to imply that you (or that she did) stay in the early days for the next 12 years of course. Just to give form to her story. And yes, the pain still lives there for her, but changed…more manageable, perhaps.
I think of you and your family daily, always with love and caring. And every day his name or his state of choice, Colorado, continue to pop up in the most unexpected places. xo
I like seeing that photo of Danny looking up through your eyes. Thank you for that. And for the telling about your friend. I know that time will shift things around. I also know that I will never again be the person I was mid-February. How and what takes shape is as yet unknown. Unknowing is big part of these early days.
Dee~ Yes, so much unknown. And no, you will never be that person. What your response reminded me of is that my friend told me how her in-laws (especially MIL) has stayed in the early days, still. What that looks like is that she still wears her ‘green’ bracelets (his cancer color, were made when Christopher was alive still), those rubbery ones and they say Change Works, which his friends came up with – long story.
Anyway, she is still there associating green very strongly with Christopher and buying my friend green gifts. My friend is not there now and the green, green, green reminds her of his illness and death, not who he was when alive. She does not tell her MIL, as it comes from love and grief and trying to support my friend.
All that to say it is unique and complicated and there are conversations to be had (with those that you can) and grace to be granted in a full circle to those around you.
It’s a lot.
Love, love
I’m not sure I ever shared a picture of my son when he dyed his hair bright red. It was a 90s thing. I didn’t like it.
Danny was a tow-headed toddler so it was a more natural shade for him.
Ah…makes sense…
the sound of mourning doves … (sigh)
and yes, what is prayer if not “thinking of you”? so many, many prayers
I agree with Nancy … my first thought, having recently been to my first butterfly garden house, was how rapt Danny was … it’s a beautiful, pensive picture
Liz A
Thank you Liz. For both observations.