Dearest Rachel –
Shortly after your accident, Pastor Scott reached out to me, and offered to meet me on a regular basis, to keep in touch and “make sure I didn’t do anything rash.” It was a very informal approach to grief counseling, even before I enrolled in the support group (in fact, he even suggested I hold off enrolling too soon, for reasons that escape me at the moment – perhaps in that state of the pain being so fresh, I wasn’t in a position to get any benefit from it right away), as well as a chance for me to vent about all sorts of things. He seemed to find my thought processes – already fairly unusual for someone in my position – interesting, for a lack of a better term; it was he who suggested writing you (maybe not in so many words, but it was the conversations that we had that inspired me to start this) as a form of virtual therapy, which I’ve been at ever since.
But I’ve been left to wonder what he meant about ‘doing something rash.’ Oh, I understand that decisions made in the throes of grief aren’t always well thought out, and changes made just for the sake of changing things aren’t necessarily improvements, but what sort of things was he afraid I might do? Try to join you? I have wondered if, had you somehow been spared that “one last trip” down the hill, we might not have gotten into an accident or something on our way back home from camp; if this was meant to be your time, in a Final Destination sort of way, that could have taken either Daniel or myself (or both of us) out as well. The fact that it didn’t suggests to me that we have something left to do here that He decided you were finished with. The Lord seems to have left us here for a reason; it’s incumbent upon me to figure out what that reason is, which requires staying down here for a while yet. On an eternal basis, I’ll be up there to join you soon enough.
So that’s one possibility ruled out. How about trying to “get some”? After all, I’d expressed (in front of my folks and Pastor Scott, no less – talk about your rash decisions in the face of grief!) frustration at my growing concupiscence in light of your absence not even a week after your departure. No doubt, I’d be looking for someone to fill that role that only you have been able to up to that point; might I be likely to fall for some gold-digger or scammer in the hopes of chasing tail? An admittedly more likely scenario, to be sure, but you can see how that’s played out; I may be willing to drive around in the suburbs, but I’m not shelling out cash sight unseen. Besides, I’m looking for someone to spend a lifetime with, not a one-night stand.
And then, there’s the question of the decisions I did make; were they too rash? As far as cleaning out the house, I was more often the one hitting the brakes when it came to throwing things out (or donating them to Goodwill, depending on their condition) between me and Jan. I asked for advice about the remodeling project, as well as those first few trips (granted, the first one fell through in a big way – it might be suggested that God was trying to tell me something, but He could have done so before I flew off to Switzerland), and usually received what even I found to be surprisingly enthusiastic assent to my plans. Basically, what consensus I could get on the major life changes I’ve engaged in tended to be affirmative.
But one thing I’ve discovered is that I kind of have to be rash in my decisions. If something crosses my mind for me to do, I need to get on with it, or it won’t end up getting done. I literally find myself calling the travel agent, asking her to find something and book it “before I change my mind.” If I don’t do something like that, it doesn’t get done, and I find myself spending night after night in the bedroom watching YouTube until I practically fall asleep, while the boys do likewise in the family room. That’s fine for a day or two now and then, but it’s not something to spend my whole life doing. I need to get out and do things (and I need to find someone to do them with) before I’m no longer able to. I suppose that’s why the character of Kimari speaks to me so deeply, even if I don’t have that much in common with her otherwise; I’ve been forced to acknowledge that I’m running out of time, and I need to use it… like, right now.
Of course, it’s more than just my own self-imposed tasks that I need to address the moment they come to me; there are also plenty of external commitments to deal with. You know how you’re asked to do something, and you get up to do it, and the person asking you waves you off? “Oh, no, no, no… you don’t have to do it right now. When you get the chance, if you could… that would be great.” Yeah, that’s not an option for me. Just like I fear running out of memories of you, I worry about forgetting these sort of short-term things that I’m supposed to remember to do later. Because, once “later” arrives, that request has long since slipped my mind, like a dream I forgot to write down. My mental notes are written in disappearing ink. I have to deal with them right when I’m asked, or they aren’t going to get done.
Case in point; I had just left the ‘office’ a couple of days ago, and was just changing clothes when my phone rang. Now, my phone rings in an awful lot these days, and that could be the subject of a whole other letter to you someday soon, but not right now. This particular call was from the folks – who I had just left no more than five minutes previously. Evidently it just struck Dad that that day was my sister’s anniversary with her husband, and would I be so good as to call her and wish her well? Not right then, of course, but after I was finished working out. I agreed…
…and proceeded to completely forget about it once I was done with my work out. In fact, I didn’t remember until I woke up this morning, and realized what I hadn’t done, and what I needed to do yet. So, before heading for the ‘office’ this morning, I wrote out a check as an anniversary present, picked up a card to put it in, and dropped it off at her place.
Job well done, yes? And even a nice chat with her for a half-hour or so, in the bargain. But now I have to convey a message to Daniel, once I’m done at the ‘office’ (and maybe done working out – I’m still debating as to whether or not to undergo that for the second time this week today, or wait until tomorrow) as to whether he’d be willing to drop by the house to water her plants. I hope I can remember to do this.
At least I have something to remind me in this case; she gave me a birthday card to give him as well. Guess belated celebrations are all the thing these days…
Anyway, that’s my day so far, honey. Keep an eye on us, and wish us luck; we’re going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 