It All Seems So Small Now

Dearest Rachel –

I tell you, honey, we leave for a few weeks, and when we come back, everything is turned completely upside down.  

Or is that too callous a perspective?

To be fair, it was Dad himself who made the rueful joke about not being able to pick us up at the airport when he first went into the hospital a little more than a month ago.  He and Mom had, after all, picked us up back in March when we got home; at which point we related what we had seen and done to the both of them (and I elaborated on some of the stories later on from time to time as I reported in to the ‘office’ in the succeeding days thereafter).  This time around, I was still looking forward to telling him all about this trip when we got home – including what I thought of riding on one of Viking’s ocean fleet, as he and Mom had only had the chance to travel with them on a European river or two.

But although the possibility was brought up as we were about to fly out, I didn’t seriously entertain the notion that he might not be here to regale with one story or another.  I’d made it clear when he’d cracked the joke in the first place that I’d never expected him to do so anyway – I’d gotten an Uber on more than one occasion from O’Hare in the past (although mostly because I’d arrived at some absurd hour of the night).  

That having been said, finding other transportation options wasn’t the biggest concern on my mind – although when Logan offered to get us, that felt a bit unexpected. Personally, I’m thinking Logan just wanted an excuse to drive my car one more time (he’s since informed me that he borrowed it on a couple of other occasions while we were gone, too).  I concluded that it couldn’t hurt; and it would be more than sufficient in terms of having room for all of us and our luggage in the way some Ubers I’ve taken might not.  So after a couple of rounds back and forth, I accepted his offer.

But it still felt weird to not have a need to keep Dad informed of when we arrived in town or the like.  At the same time, I wasn’t sure if Mom would even be all that concerned about knowing whether we’ve made it back into town safely or not.  If nothing else, she’s got all sorts of other things on her mind (or on the other hand, she might have gone to sleep things off already; the whole ordeal of both hospice and his passing have clearly been draining on her, which I could see even from the remove of half a continent and only voice contact away).

So no, I wasn’t bothered by them not coming to pick us up as such.  What bothers me is the knowledge that they never will going forward. What bothers me is that I don’t know if I should be keeping them (sorry, her) up to date with my comings and goings like I have up until now. What bothers me is the understanding that everything has changed while we were gone, and I still don’t know how to react to it – even though I’ve already been through what Mom’s going through, if on a smaller scale, due to our shorter amount of time together and the sudden shock of your departure as opposed to Dad’s own long (but still fairly sudden when it did come) decline.

For one thing, what enjoyment we’ve had from the trip has to be set aside to properly attend to the requirements of Dad’s upcoming funeral. It’s said in scripture that we’re to rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. But what happens when you’re supposed to be both people at the same time? You just can’t do both. I can’t be all happy about what we’ve seen and done over the past couple of weeks when there’s a solemn moment to deal with – to say nothing of the tremendous loss, both to ourselves personally (he was my Dad, after all, and Daniel’s Poppa) and to the community at large. That takes precedence over joy, particularly considering how fleeting it was in comparison to the effect of his departure.

A generation ago, Dad’s mother and her siblings were brought together for one last time, after having been scattered throughout the county during their lives. While most of them remained in the Chicago area – or at least, the Midwest in general – and often returned to (and even hosted) the family Christmas gatherings, there were some that had left for greener pastures on one coast or the other. The extended family has some footage somewhere of their meeting and various trips together through the places from their childhood – including a dinner hosted by my parents. I’m on the video, too, and I cringe as I talk about the fact that I was off to college, and the things I’m expecting to do while I’m there.

It’s cringe-inducing to hear myself talk about plans that never came to fruition, even though I’m well aware of the many benefits my time there granted me – including you. Compared to the lives of these seven siblings, what I had to talk about seemed so small, and even more so now. They had some seventy to ninety years of stories, and here I was, with not even twenty, bubbling over about stuff that wasn’t even going to come to pass. And so it is today; all the things Daniel and I did, put up against what we’ve just lost… well, it all seems so small now.

So why should I be bothered by the lack of a ride from the airport?

Anyway, I’ve got to get on with my life now, so I’ll get back to you later. Keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me well; I’m going to need it.