Dearest Rachel –
This morning really didn’t start off that much differently from any other Saturday morning (at least, any Saturday since your departure). This may be convention weekend for the boys, but they still sleep at the house – and why not, since the event is barely five miles from the house? So I get up, wash, and bid my sleeping son a good day before heading out to Bible study, as I usually do. It’s this whole new routine of life after you; every day is pretty much the same as every other, every week and every month likewise. Or so it seems to be, at least on an ordinary day like today.
As I got into my car to drive off, I was hit by that strange sense of wanderlust I told you about earlier last week; since the boys are on their own, I could theoretically go anywhere and do anything, so… why not? Of course, I quickly shot it down, as the very reason I was in the car at this hour, rather than trying to get a little more sleep (like they were) was because I had commitments and obligations beyond that of just home and family. Not only this morning, but this evening as well would be seeing me at church for one thing (study) or another (production). Even if it was more than just a passing thought, I couldn’t just hop a flight to who-knows-where for whatever reason.
But now I was left to ponder why this impulse keeps striking me; why do I deal with this compulsion to pick up and go… somewhere, anywhere… on a mere whim?
And then it hit me. Memorial Day had just come and gone. Meanwhile, I had done nothing, and gone nowhere.
***
Now, it’s not as if we made a tradition of honoring the fallen on that day, as originally intended. We have veterans on either side of our family, but those closest to us – your dad and my uncle Wally – made it home safely. Other causes took them away eventually (Wally much sooner than your dad), but it is the gallant and heroic deaths in battle that are the ostensible focus of the holiday just passed, so they don’t count here. Those of us who aren’t Gold Star families must content ourselves with the day off of work, and the change to relax, or perhaps travel over a long weekend.
Which is what we used to do – especially once my workplace shifted back to a March 31st fiscal year-end, thus precluding a trip to Tennessee to see Kevin then, when it was slightly cooler. For years, it has been a tradition for us to drive down over Memorial Day weekend to hang out with him, doing little more than watching television and playing video games (with the occasional break to either cook or eat out) and just talk.
And that’s no longer an option for us… but it completely slipped my mind for nearly a week.
***
You’d think I’d notice; for all that I said earlier about things being the same, day after day, week after week, year after year, it’s not as if the last few years worth of visits have in any way been the same from one to the other. Sure, many of them blurred together, but once we got out of the house over the pandemic to see him, followed by a visit with just Daniel and Chompers (and his wheelchair) and I, and then down to only me and Daniel, it’s not like the last few were at all the same as the previous series. Everything was constantly changing, with the group of us being whittled down by one more, until, with the host removed from the scene, there was no longer any point to the trip at all.
And I didn’t give it much thought on Monday at all.
Oh, I took the day off; I didn’t go into the ‘office,’ despite the fact that I was in town and could have just as easily as not. I was kind of hoping to knock around town with the girls, and stayed by the phone, hoping that the group chat would come up with something – we eventually settled for a Zoom call late in the evening, for what it was worth. I guess it kept me from going out and overeating at some restaurant, so there’s that.
But I didn’t notice at the moment that there had been yet another major change to what I still perceived as an unyieldingly constant routine. I had gaslit myself into thinking that nothing was different, when in fact, something had changed dramatically. Maybe not as dramatic as losing you, but still…
And maybe that’s it. After your departure, what else could possibly be all that significant in comparison? Our face-to-face interactions with Kevin were only twice a year, and while we tried to keep gaming on a weekly basis (and actually did manage less than a week before his accident, so there’s that), we considered ourselves fortunate to maintain an every-other-week connection, and even then, it was relatively superficial. So I suppose, he suffers (if that’s the right word for it, considering that he’s where you are, and presumably not suffering at all; indeed, I wonder what he must look like, with a body unencumbered by the limitations he had to deal with here on earth) in the comparison.
If you happen to run into him, send him my apologies, will you, honey? Oh, and keep an eye on us down here when you can; we’re going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 