One Final Trip (part five) Beyond Our Control

Dearest Rachel –

We were just across the Indiana state line, and filling up the tank after what seemed like a couple of hours in Chicago traffic when the word came from Kerstin. After weeks – perhaps even months – of asking her (relatively new) boss for the time off, only to get either a brush-off or a noncommittal response, she finally got an answer from him: “Sorry; we can’t spare you.” Normally, I’m not good at reading emotion in text, but her frustration as she relayed this to us was palpable. But what could I say? And what could she do? One is beholden to one’s boss for one’s livelihood; defying him runs the risk of losing it. All I could do was acknowledge the situation, and agree that there was nothing that could be done about it all.

In some way, it was fitting; you had to endure – if mostly vicariously – my own struggles with work throughout our last decade together, so to have your sendoff marred by a work conflict, while disappointing, might actually be something familiar and understandable. There were, after all, years where your folks’ planned week conflicted with the times when I absolutely had to be in the office to close the books – as well as others early in our marriage when I simply only had so many vacation days, and couldn’t take the extra time, since we’d already planned (or gone on) a separate trip elsewhere on our own. The only difference here was that we would generally know of the conflict some time in advance, and were thus prepared to deal with it; here, it’s come at the last minute. That, and you were more than happy to take Daniel and go on your own to see your folks and the island, which I didn’t begrudge you the opportunity.

That primacy of family leads to the topic of Ellen and her mother. Again, since you had to deal with your own parents’ decline, you have to had understood her need to put her mother’s need first and foremost. And this was a situation we’d been aware of for a few weeks at this point; her inability to join us was less of a surprise. In either case, it’s a situation that’s beyond our control.

The thing is, we tried to get a handle on this well over a year ago. The girls all have, thanks to work and other commitments, all manner of scheduling issues in their lives that make a trip like this difficult to put together. It’s why we delayed so long in returning to the island as it was; we wanted to arrange things so far in advance that they would be able to have it carved into their calendar before anything could come up to deny it. Daniel and I could have gone at any time (well, within reason; the island is virtually closed off during the winter, after all); what was important was that your friends also get a chance to say goodbye, and get a chance to see your beloved island before they do.

But now… that doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.

Moreover, this brings into question the Last Girl, who has a perfectly cleared schedule – and who just dropped off a few things with us yesterday morning, to free up space in her car for her drive with Kerstin – space that she now doesn’t happen to need to have freed up in the first place. What would have been a relaxing and convivial – if understandably somewhat solemn – time together as the four (or, initially, five) of us becomes awkward when it’s down to three. Oh, we’ll each have our own rooms and our own beds, so we have that much more privacy, but the two-on-one dynamic might be considered… uncomfortable for her in particular. It wouldn’t surprise me if she were to send her regrets as well, at this point – and I would totally understand it if she did.

Not that I’d like it, but what can be done? I can’t control other people’s decisions, any more than they can control things that upset their schedule. These are the things that happen, and – you’ll pardon the phrasing – we just have to live with it. We don’t have to like it, but that’s sometimes the only choice we have in the moment; how to feel about it. The situation “is what it is,” as the saying goes.

Well, we’ll see what happens come Sunday, I suppose, honey. It may be a slow, lonely week for the two of us, and a subdued understated sendoff for you. There are that fewer people to tell stories about you to (and hear from), but it can’t be helped. Still, if you could keep an eye on us, and wish us luck, I’d appreciate it. After all, with so much beyond our control, we’re going to need it.