July 4: Some Really Good Things Coupled with Incomprehensible Loss

This week has been packed with good things and with incomprehensible loss. First, the good things. 

Magic camp started. Luckily Amy’s new broom arrived in time. Magic camp is with Anna at our house. On day one, Sarah and Amy flew on their brooms to get there, and Anna arrived wearing a magic hat and carrying more hats to share. Sarah loved potions class the best, especially when her sparkly pink potion overflowed, as it was supposed to with the combination of vinegar and baking soda. 

My cousin visited for the first time since before the pandemic. She and I cooked dinner together and that was a lovely experience with delicious results. It was so nice to be together in person, and our guest room is cleaner than it has been in years!

Gregory had a beautiful moment with Sarah during his first time back with her in person. They have been doing Facetime sessions since the world shut down. In his words…

Sarah and I sat on the porch swing.  Even after Jenny had suggested Sarah show me her room, and Sarah confirmed verbally, Sarah’s focus remained on…my presence.  That was everything for her.  The hiking shorts.  The semi-shiny button.  The striped shirt.  Buttons with four holes.  The whiskey socks.  Her musical notes.  Her shiny button.  And all the while just locked-in, vibing on having me there beside her.  She had that locked in face, the cycling jaw, her fingers a bit rigid and approaching the patterns and stitching and seams on my clothes.

Amy was also very present initially, and I chatted with her about her broom.  I asked Sarah, “Did YOU get a broom too?  Or not?”  And Sarah very reflexively, knowing a question had been asked but not having at all processed the language, said, “Yes.” Amy, of course, volleyed back, “No, you didn’t!”

I laughed, talked to Amy while looking at Sarah, “Well.  To be honest, I think Sarah is so into my just being here that she didn’t really process the question I’d asked her, you know?”  In the middle of that question, Sarah exited that state of momentary and existential nirvana and looked at me.  Processed what I’d been saying to Amy, and she reached out with her right hand.  She looked me in the eye and stroked the hair behind my left ear.  “It’s good to see you, Gregory.”  It was the sweetest moment.  “You know what, Sarah?  It’s so wonderful to see you as well!”

On Sunday night I learned that the previous headmaster of my elementary school died. I hadn’t seen him since I was maybe in 5th grade but I always liked him when he came into our classroom to read aloud from a novel. Sarah and Amy heard my cry when I read the news and came in to offer hugs and tissues. 

Carl turned 45 on Tuesday. I had been preparing for it ahead of time gathering sentiments from many friends and family. It meant a lot to him when I presented them at the end of the day, especially after the difficult day it turned out to be. For some background, a couple of years ago Carl’s friend, who had lost his young son to cancer, asked Carl if he would be his partner for a big mountain bike race in British Columbia in honor of the son who had died. Carl said yes, and they began training in earnest. The race got postponed due to Covid19. Then it got canceled. They signed up for a different race. That also got canceled. They kept their registrations for the British Columbia race but now for 2022. They were training for another race that would happen sooner. This friend was going to do a race on his own in three weeks, but was going to do an all-day training ride with Carl yesterday. That was the plan. Tuesday morning, just after Carl decided he could see the all-day bike ride as part of his birthday celebration, he got a call that his friend had died in his sleep. Completely out of the blue and unexpected. As you can surmise given the biking, this friend was extremely fit and healthy. He was only 51. We cannot wrap our minds around what happened. We cannot comprehend the grief of the friend’s widow and her three remaining children. How does a family survive the loss of a child to cancer and a few years later the loss of a dad in this way? Our hearts break for them. Carl’s heart breaks for the loss of such a good friend and coworker. Carl will now ride the race in three weeks in honor of his friend.