Just In Case . . .

My husband tells me several times a day that he wishes I would stay home.  As I prepare to awaken in less than three hours from now, I imagine how quickly my 18 days of travel and visit in the central part of California will pass.  What he imagines is a long stretch of day-to-day without the spice in his life.  What can I say?!  He's right.

Among his entreaties and solid reasons that are the basis for why he believes I should cancel my big trip is the possibility that my plane might crash.  Which plane, exactly, that might be, he never says.  I have a stop-over in Phoenix on my way out; a longer one on my return trip via the Las Vegas airport with its oasis bar . . . selling NOT alcohol but Ethel's Chocolates.  (Have I ever told you about the virtues of their key lime truffle?)  I count four separate legs of the journey.  That' four planes harboring the possibility for engine failure. 

He's not joking but nor is he being particularly morbid in his dire prediction.  What he sees is this thing which could permanently break up our family.  Though I stand more chance of being killed in a car accident, he never begs me to remain at home from a dangerous trip to the grocery store or a hazardous foray to Starbuck's for his precious beans.  It's the combination of time, distance, AND mode of travel which has created this portentous  welling of feeling within my spouse of 21 years.  Not to mention the fact that I am traveling without my little family.  It's his way of saying he misses me already and can't begin to imagine how many fold that will increase in my actual absence.

But the morning news, not to mention the hard curve balls of our own lives, reveals a world in which bad things really do happen to good, and bad, people.  So, let's suppose I did, in fact, board a flight which was bound for a crash landing with no survivors.  I've actually been supposing that very thing all day.  Not out of fear.  Not because of any superstition.  Definitely not due to any sense of impending doom.  It was an exercise in contemplation.  I contemplated a very short list.  My personal demise, the way in which it might happen, the dreams I would not continue to seek -- this was not my short list.  How my family would feel, how the loss would affect their lives, and what I would want them to know -- these were the elements of my serious daydream.

Obviously, my death would impact Jimmy and the kids.  No mystery there.  It would be painful.  Something I would not wish on even a sworn enemy.  In the larger scope, stretching past the perimeter of the initial loss, their futures loom large.  Would my husband find another parter for the rest of his life?  Would the kids ever forgive me for flying away from them and creating a void in their existences?  And on the other end of the trip, would Gary continue to try for a better life, a non-institutionalized life, without his main advocate? 

As my initial time frame for this blog has come and gone, including a stumble of minutes whereby my chin hit my chest, hinting at what I should be doing, I'll cut to the chase.

To Gary I would suggest that he start living for himself and remember there are people rooting him on, ready to see him stand straight and master the helm of his own ship.  I would beg him to continue to entertain hope so that what we worked so hard for together would not have been a vain pursuit.  "Thank you, brother, for knowing my heart so well and so honestly that you never raised your voice in righteous anger toward anything I ever had to tell you for your own good.  You are a rare bird to both ask for advice and actually take it.  That puts you in the front of the line.  I love you.  The Lord is real.  Finish our book.  Life is coming to get you!"

To Ashley I would ask that she be confident in who she was made to be.  "Remember that curly-haired rat-nested wisp of a child who ate pasta and cheese with fervor, forsaking meat for yogurt though you once enjoyed pre-masticated McDonald's cheeseburgers courtesy of your ma!  She was fierce and did not question her right to assert herself and be heard.  She was most definitely NOT passive  When marriage and motherhood enter your stage left, shine the lights full on them and act them out with passion to the very end.  Don't forget to put Abby's flea and tick on EVERY month.  Thanks for all of today's hugs.  I love you, sweet thing!"

To Sarah I would request she see college all the way to its conclusion.  "Be the superstar you know you were born to be.  Take your passion and shape it around the people and things you select and place in your adult life.  Remember our talks and the very adult advice you often gave to me over the last year or two.  Never lose your topknot . . . its beautiful and courageous.  Stay friends with your brother and sister because they know you best, dear girl.  Find a good home for that hamster but let him use his wheel in the meantime.  I understand your anger at my leaving right when you get off restriction.  Don't feel guilty about such things.  Talk to your dad like you talked to me.  I love you, uggless!"

To Zachary I would tell you my spirit is never far from you.  "Talk to the Lord.  Imagine your mom with Grace and Gabriel and all of our many loved ones who went before us.  Don't hang on to negative feelings.  Let sadness be a mere whisper in the course of your life.  I'm proud of your energy and humor and personality.  If I seemed hard on you, it was only because I saw your potential and wanted to protect it from a covetous world.  Stay away from those older girls as you make your way through high school!  Take care of Panda.  Keep feeding her the special recipe.  Know that I went upstairs to check on you and watched you sleep.  Even now, I hear that squeaky twin bed and can't wait to see you in the new double size.  You were a delightful gift to our family upon your birth, little boy.  I love you, mister son!"

To Jimmy I would want him to know that as I puttered around, doing the odd chore amidst the flurry of my packing, connecting with my home and family through the mundane actions of my everyday, I came across his discarded clothing.  I picked them up to toss them in the hamper, but stopped to press his t-shirt to my face, inhaling the very masculine and warmly familiar scent of him.  I was flooded with the certain knowledge that despite every hardship we've faced as a family and as an old married couple (smile), our 21 years together were of unquantified value.  "You have provided me with more security, comfort, and safety than I had ever before experienced in life.  Your dedication to working to provide for your family and your desire to allow me to remain home for our children also gave me space and time in which to heal some of my personal wounds.  In ways you may never fully understand, you handed me the freedom to support and aid my siblings in their very public private battles.  You loved me even when I confounded you.  You deserve to love again and be loved.  Allow it.  Please, continue to build a rapport with your children as they enter adulthood.  They will delight you, I promise.  Listen to them and know they listen to you.  I beg you not to forget my brother and sister.  Keep them in the family.  Smile and know I am in the 4th dimension, Jimmers.  I love you, my husband."

But, this is all nothing more than a simple exercise.  My feelings and thoughts are not hidden.  I don't wait for special occasions.  My family would most likely be the first to exclaim that I express myself well and very, very, very often.  What's the point of leaving beautiful things unsaid?  They offer scant comfort in death.  To my readers, to my friends, to my other family members who are both close and precious to me, I love each one of you and value the unique niche in my heart wherein all of you dwell. 

With that, until next I post, I'm off for what will be the swiftest hour and a half of sleep in human history.  I've got a plane to catch at 9AM.