Dearest Rachel –
I’ve been meaning to write you on this topic for some time, although I’ve always rather hesitated about doing so. It’s always seemed both bigger than I can cover in a single post (although I don’t seem to have a problem with a couple thousand words about what happened the weekend before – and my opinions on it – now and again) and more chaotically elaborate than can be properly expressed without confusing you – or me, for that matter.
Besides, I’m well aware that seeking causes and effects in life, while a matter of human nature, is a futile effort. Until the Great Author deigns to explain it to me Himself (like He may possibly have done for you; although were you as inquisitive as I was and am? Would you have had need to be, given what happened – or didn’t – in your lifetime?), I have to conclude that some things just happen – sometimes even in a coincidentally recognizable sequence – and there’s no real rhyme or reason as to ‘how’ or ‘why.’ They just do, and there’s nothing more to be said about that.
But that doesn’t stop people from saying things, and drawing conclusions, even where none should really exist.
Take, for instance, certain theories about pretty much the same time frame I’m going to be talking about. You might remember how we were introduced to meme culture by Daniel pointing us to YouTube back about ten years ago or so (which I think he learned from his friends at college), and found it amusing enough to keep following together as a family, for our mutual amusement. In fact, I would download scores of such videos cataloging and reading out various memes to keep us entertained at various times while on the island. To be fair, most of them were about as mindless as they come – junk food for the eyes and ears – while others felt like news stories stated in a form that was better adapted for the Millennial (and GenZ) way of thinking (and were both as timely and as ephemeral; they would be utterly meaningless before a year was out because of it). But some seemed to make certain claims that, if not delivered in their ironic and self-deprecating way, would have been considered straight-up conspiracy theories. One of these was a claim that things just haven’t been the same since Harambe the gorilla was shot after scooping up a kid that fell into his enclosure back in May of 2016. Some say that, as the alpha male of the enclosure, he was collecting and protecting the child from others of his kind in there, while the meme community began to joke that he was telling the child certain secrets; “Listen, kid… I don’t have much time; but I need to tell you –” and blam! He was dead, and the secrets of the universe were lost to time.
Others people of a more serious bent (we’re talking about ‘serious journalism,’ here) might tell you that the world was turned upside-down with the ‘golden escalator’ moment. And even though we were not witness to that moment – neither of us took his original candidacy or his chances seriously at the time, and also thought of him as a typical New Yorker putting on a party mantle like he would a new suit in order to get votes from a wider audience – we would, in retrospect, acknowledge that it did mark a turning point of history (especially given that he succeeded in getting where he wanted to be). If nothing else, it really accelerated a polarization in society that didn’t seem to be there among the ruling class; up until his ascendancy, I would have (and did) told you that it really didn’t seem to matter who was in charge, that things would happen as they did regardless of the party in power. It was as if the country could run even without someone at the helm, since his affiliation didn’t matter. Well, after going through a period without anyone clearly at the helm, some of us know better now, while others insist that a vacancy at the tiller was the best thing that could happen to us. Come to think of it, that may be true either way, insofar as it opened peoples’ eyes in a way that a constant progression might not have.
But those are inflection points in a more macro sense, rather than a personal one for us. As far as I’m concerned, things came together (and fell apart) beginning with, of all things, the Cubs winning the World Series. Yes, I’m sure that sounds weird, given your indifference to all things sportsball, but hear me out. Even you understood the significance of that moment, and it was you who suggested planting the ‘W’ flag on my grandmother’s grave, since you’d heard stories about her and her love for the game and ‘her’ Cubbies. And while we were doing so – with the rest of the family, since you’d proposed doing this in front of the whole family near the end of 2016 – you mentioned what you wanted done with your own ashes (an odd thing in its own right, as my side of the family has a fairly large plot of members buried in a certain cemetery in Niles; cremation isn’t a thing for us, as a rule), which gave me a key as to what to do for you now. It also led to bringing my folks to the island, as our tradition of burial led to my dad’s expressing concern about your request; you had to show him why it was such a place that you wanted to be laid to rest (after a fashion) there.
But between your expressing that wish and our taking them there, other things began to both come together and fall apart concurrently. There was your dad’s first stroke shortly after we visited Grandma’s grave; up until then, you had been pushing your parents to have live-in care brought in, but they resisted due to the alleged expense. Once your dad realized he couldn’t take care of your mom on his own (and we came down to tour a couple of assisted-care facilities with them, to illustrate the alternative to live-in nursing care), they both relented. Not a moment too soon, either, as he then had another stroke a few months later, and passed away a week before they would have celebrated their golden anniversary (and all the plans made for their open house celebration turned into a reception for after his memorial service – which I still wish I’d double-checked as to whether that had been recorded, as I would have wished for footage of your eulogy for him).
In the process, we began to deal with lawyers, both down there and up here, with regard to powers of attorney and passage of estate. From here, we learned the full extent of what they had – you always knew they were never in need, but you had no idea how little need they had until this point. Even paying for a rotation of nurses for your mom on a 24-hour basis wasn’t sufficient to deplete her portfolio (granted, 2017 and 2018 were very good years for the market in any event, but still…). Meanwhile, at some point, we’d also discussed – in front of our lawyer, in fact, at which point he had you write it down (although I’ve never included a copy of the list in your handwriting here, because it included actual names and addresses) – people we would want to share whatever windfall we might have with. So, even without an actual will from you, I had bits and pieces in recent enough memory to know what to do with things when the moment fell upon me.
Of course, for that moment to fall upon me and really tear things apart, there had to be a moment where things all came together… sort of. That was, of course, your mom’s passing in March of 2019, right in the middle of my dealing with my own dad’s health crisis. For all that I know it was wrenching to be orphaned (even in one’s late forties, it’s got to be an odd situation to be in; that’s disorienting, to be the oldest living member of your branch of the family at that age), it also seemed to come as a relief, as you were more your “Daddy’s little girl” than your mom’s. Plus, your mom’s slide into dementia made her passing something of a blessing for her as well. But then, there was the fact that, as you put it to me, “you’ve supported me all this time, now it’s my turn to support you,” as you gave me permission to put in my notice and finally resign from the company – and one man in particular – that had broken my spirit (and I don’t say that lightly; I thought I’d done what I could to muscle through, but I’ve been told many times since about how I’ve recovered from those days in ways that suggested that I’d been under a heavy weight for a very long time prior to that. I just wish you could still be here, to see me at… well, maybe not my best, but at my far better).
We got in a good year and a half after that – including a time when we were grateful not to be subject to some employers’ rules about quarantining ourselves, but also being happy in each others’ company to be able to enjoy what quarantining we did together – but of course, that was not to last, either. There was a moment where I told you we had enough to live comfortably (by which I meant, drawing out the equivalent of my final salary every year to live on) until Daniel was ninety; but a month later… it was proven that we, too, had stored up too much for too long, and one of us wouldn’t be around to enjoy it all. Had I invoked the curse of the “rich fool”? And if so, why was it not meted out upon me, who had uttered the words, but rather to you, the source of our abundance?
But there I go again, honey; drawing connections where they aren’t. I can’t seem to help it, much like the memelords claim that once Harambe was shot, the world went to hell. It’s a silly conclusion, but mine isn’t much better. And in either case, it’s not as if there’s anything I can do about it. But seeing as the Cubs are currently tearing up their division, I wonder if that bodes any more serious changes in my life…
Nah; they’ll probably barely make the wild-card, when all is said and done. And even if they make it, what difference will they make, seeing as I no longer pay that much attention to it all? It’s not historic anymore.
But be that as it may, honey, I’d appreciate it if you’d still keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. No matter how things go, I think I’ll need it.
Letters to Rachel 