LJI friends & rivals: topic 5
Louisa peered up into the cold night sky. For the first time in maybe a week, she could see more than six or seven stars while she did so. When she took a further moment to estimate, she realized it was clear enough tonight to see stars all over the sky for the first time in recent memory - yesterday's big storm had definitely helped clear out the gunk and clouds hiding the view of the friendly, far away twinkles. She was apt to overlook her vague sense of loss when they went missing for a while and her inordinate pleasure at seeing their return. But this evening she took a deep breath and purposely remembered and reveled in how much peaceful joy a sight such as this might give her. She drew another big breath, even though the freezing air made it slightly painful to do, and did something she hadn't done in at least a year - she sent up a brief affirmation to the Power/s That Be, acknowledging the appreciation she longed to feel for her ability to be present in that moment, in that space.
Thinking back on the week they'd all just gone through, concluding with today's graveside service for her sweet Abby girl, it was not a small wonder she felt as if with the smallest of proddings she might lie down on the frozen ground, let her eyes drift closed, and wait for unconsciousness to lay claim to her. Instead she made the selfish, necessary effort to praise her own strength of will in resisting the enormous temptation to do just that thing, and she knew a night sky with the clarity of this one was one of the items that stopped her from doing so. Of course, she also knew it was completely secondary to how awful she'd feel for her sons Zach and Simon if she allowed herself to do it, but they were grown men now with families and completely separate lives of their own.
Abby too had been in a committed relationship. Engaged to Weston, a genuinely good person who'd been sweet to her in countless ways - he was constantly making cups of tea and broth, giving her foot rubs, helping her in and out of the bathtub, and just lying quietly next to Abby when she needed his presence but no conversation - and unendingly loving with her, especially in the last few months, but Louisa was nevertheless reminded of an old saying her own mother had said more than once -
"A son is yours till he takes a wife, but a daughter is your child for the rest of her life."
Much of the time it sounded corny and and excruciatingly out of date, but then she couldn't deny the kernel of truth that came with realizing she had talked with Abby just about every day and often saw her several times each week whereas she was lucky to hear monthly from Simon, and she managed to touch base with Zach even less frequently. She couldn't even use the excuse of distance to explain away why she and the boys seldom talked and saw each other now - all three children lived within thirty miles of her and Gary, with Simon the closest at a mere seven miles away, just one neighborhood over to the west.
Louisa pushed her hands deeper into her pockets and turned around to trudge the two blocks back to the house. She hoped Gary had been able to make good on his commitment to get most of the visitors to say their goodbyes and take their leaves back to their own homes. She had tried to show genuine appreciation for all the neighbors and friends who'd made an effort to come by and express their sorrow and sympathy for the family's loss, but with only a couple of exceptions, Louisa could not help thinking how none of the other parents had had to bury a child of their own.
A couple she knew from church and school functions had lost one of their children in a car accident about a decade earlier. The other couple, Julia and Stewart, she'd been close with for many years. She'd known Julia since 6th grade, and she remembered with somber clarity when Julia and Stewart laid their son James to rest at Arlington - she'd made the trip to attend the burial at Julia's request, not even considering she wouldn't do so for her lifelong friend. She and Stewart had moved to Texas less than a year later, but she and Louisa kept in regular contact via phone calls, emails, and even Facebook. It had meant the earth to her to get Julia's phone call at just after midnight last Sunday - Julia had somehow known instinctively Louisa wouldn't be sleeping, and no voice could have been more welcome on that lonely, forlorn night.
Julia had said she'd jump on the next plane to Philadelphia if Lou needed her there, and while she knew the offer was totally genuine, Louisa had told her she didn't need to come and meant it - if they could plan to see each other in the next month or so, the visit would probably be even more sorely needed then. Julia had readily understood and said she'd email when she had her arrangements made for a visit in the coming weeks, and she'd stay however long Lou wanted her to. The offer had made Louisa cry the first tears in months that hadn't been tinged by bitterness or anger, and they'd stayed on the phone together for close to two hours until Louisa couldn't keep her eyes open any longer and said goodnight to her dearest friend.
Thinking back to that phone call, Louisa couldn't help but realize every person had unfillable gaps and unknowable spaces in their lives, not unlike the ones between all the stars she could still look up and see. Maybe the plan was to not let a feeling overcome you that the gaps might get too big for the stars to know they were still all part of the same nighttime sky.
this is my entry for Week 5 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Thinking back on the week they'd all just gone through, concluding with today's graveside service for her sweet Abby girl, it was not a small wonder she felt as if with the smallest of proddings she might lie down on the frozen ground, let her eyes drift closed, and wait for unconsciousness to lay claim to her. Instead she made the selfish, necessary effort to praise her own strength of will in resisting the enormous temptation to do just that thing, and she knew a night sky with the clarity of this one was one of the items that stopped her from doing so. Of course, she also knew it was completely secondary to how awful she'd feel for her sons Zach and Simon if she allowed herself to do it, but they were grown men now with families and completely separate lives of their own.
Abby too had been in a committed relationship. Engaged to Weston, a genuinely good person who'd been sweet to her in countless ways - he was constantly making cups of tea and broth, giving her foot rubs, helping her in and out of the bathtub, and just lying quietly next to Abby when she needed his presence but no conversation - and unendingly loving with her, especially in the last few months, but Louisa was nevertheless reminded of an old saying her own mother had said more than once -
"A son is yours till he takes a wife, but a daughter is your child for the rest of her life."
Much of the time it sounded corny and and excruciatingly out of date, but then she couldn't deny the kernel of truth that came with realizing she had talked with Abby just about every day and often saw her several times each week whereas she was lucky to hear monthly from Simon, and she managed to touch base with Zach even less frequently. She couldn't even use the excuse of distance to explain away why she and the boys seldom talked and saw each other now - all three children lived within thirty miles of her and Gary, with Simon the closest at a mere seven miles away, just one neighborhood over to the west.
Louisa pushed her hands deeper into her pockets and turned around to trudge the two blocks back to the house. She hoped Gary had been able to make good on his commitment to get most of the visitors to say their goodbyes and take their leaves back to their own homes. She had tried to show genuine appreciation for all the neighbors and friends who'd made an effort to come by and express their sorrow and sympathy for the family's loss, but with only a couple of exceptions, Louisa could not help thinking how none of the other parents had had to bury a child of their own.
A couple she knew from church and school functions had lost one of their children in a car accident about a decade earlier. The other couple, Julia and Stewart, she'd been close with for many years. She'd known Julia since 6th grade, and she remembered with somber clarity when Julia and Stewart laid their son James to rest at Arlington - she'd made the trip to attend the burial at Julia's request, not even considering she wouldn't do so for her lifelong friend. She and Stewart had moved to Texas less than a year later, but she and Louisa kept in regular contact via phone calls, emails, and even Facebook. It had meant the earth to her to get Julia's phone call at just after midnight last Sunday - Julia had somehow known instinctively Louisa wouldn't be sleeping, and no voice could have been more welcome on that lonely, forlorn night.
Julia had said she'd jump on the next plane to Philadelphia if Lou needed her there, and while she knew the offer was totally genuine, Louisa had told her she didn't need to come and meant it - if they could plan to see each other in the next month or so, the visit would probably be even more sorely needed then. Julia had readily understood and said she'd email when she had her arrangements made for a visit in the coming weeks, and she'd stay however long Lou wanted her to. The offer had made Louisa cry the first tears in months that hadn't been tinged by bitterness or anger, and they'd stayed on the phone together for close to two hours until Louisa couldn't keep her eyes open any longer and said goodnight to her dearest friend.
Thinking back to that phone call, Louisa couldn't help but realize every person had unfillable gaps and unknowable spaces in their lives, not unlike the ones between all the stars she could still look up and see. Maybe the plan was to not let a feeling overcome you that the gaps might get too big for the stars to know they were still all part of the same nighttime sky.
this is my entry for Week 5 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.