Initially, there was nothing unusual about this particular Thursday morning: my bed beckoned me to NOT move when the alarm went off at 5:30 am and again at 6:00 am; the coaxing worked until about 6:45 am when I launched myself out of bed to break the wicked bed-spell; I briskly got my two children, ages 6 and 8, ready for elementary school; I served them breakfast, packed their lunch-boxes and firmly ushered them into the car, with them conferencing with each other the whole time about some important business adventure : ).
It wasn't until I joined a very slow procession of vehicles several blocks from the elementary school, which lengthened my normal commute time by about 15 minutes, that I was thrown out of my normal Thursday morning routine. Who were these people clogging the road to the school? Where did they come from and WHY? Luckily, I had left home a little earlier that morning, which was also unusual...
After I dropped off my children at school (finally!) and was returning home, I passed a house about two blocks from the elementary school and saw a petite elderly lady gently ushering two baby-doll-looking children through the front door. She was kissed lovingly on the cheek by another younger woman before she (the elder woman) left with the two toddlers, all walking along the sidewalk toward the school. Then it all came together and I remembered that it was Grandparents' Day at the elementary school. It was the day that Grandparents were invited to bring their grandchildren to school and enjoy a tour of their classrooms. A quick glance at the faces on the driver's side of the oncoming traffic soon confirmed this. The faces were mostly those of elderly men and women patiently (and happily) driving their grandchildren to school for Grandparents' Day.
It was also then that something immensely painful inside me yawned open, consuming me. The memories of my Dad, who had passed away over 10 years ago, was all-at-once overpowering and I was taken off-guard. I began crying right there in the car on my way back home, impatiently wiping huge tears from my eyes so that I could see where I was going. When I arrived home I cried as I had never cried before, the kind that was gut-wrenching and shameless as it was purifying. Truth be told, crying is too pretty a word for what I did: I outright bawled! The sobs and gulps were loud, sporadic, uncontrollable and telling. I soaked the front of my shirt and two pillows. The sobs seemed to form in an unknown place somewhere deep within my chest and then they broke free, rumbling like an angry, un-caged thunderstorm and emerging from my lips with relentless abandon, glorifying in their new-found freedom. I did not try to stop or dampen them - I would not have known how.
More than just the memories of his gentleness, kindness and patience, it was knowing that, had he been alive, he would have been apart the road-clogging procession of happy grandparents, eagerly accompanying their grandchildren to school. I could almost see him there, smiling with adoration and pride. He would have spent not just a few hours touring the school, but perhaps the whole day! Then he would have taken them out to eat, then to the park; he would have also sneaked and given them ice-cream right before dinner! No doubt, I would have had to beg him to return my children to me, which he would have done reluctantly if I promised that he could do it all again with them the next day!
While no one ever fully recovers from the death of a loved-one, I wanted to believe that I had moved on. I did not realize how much pent-up pain I still had in me. It took something as inocuous as Grandparents' Day at the elementary school to release some more of the pain from my great loss. Perhaps the point is not so much knowing how to move on when someone dies, but knowing how to live healthily with the loss. I promised myself that day that I would simply keep the memories of my Dad alive by talking of him more with my children so that they can know the amazing person that he was. Then there would be nothing to get over.
To the Grandparents of children at Rippling Woods Elementary School, I hope you enjoyed Grandparents' Day as well as my Dad would have!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
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