Sunday, August 8, 2010

My Day

During the growing-up years, there were three children in our house and four next door. They all played together during endless summer days, and for many years our Lovely Daughter and the youngest girl next door were inseparable friends.

The father next door is German, their family frequently goes back and forth to and from Germany, and the oldest daughter is married to a German man and lives there. Three years ago she gave birth to boy-girl twins. There was much excitement all around during her pregnancy as we all remembered the days when I had baby boys.

When she became pregnant with twins again (another boy-girl pair), her mother delayed telling me, and she did not announce their arrival a week or so ago for a month's stay. I heard the older children playing outside one morning, and called across the fence to find out whether their mom was here with all four children. But I didn't go over.

The next day I was working at my desk, in front of a window which overlooks the street, when mom and grandma walked by, each pushing a double stroller. I called out my congratulations, but I didn't go down. Breathe in, breathe out. One step at a time. Just adjust to the babies being here before trying to meet them.

Today we needed to borrow their pick-up truck, and the dad-now-grandpa brought the keys over. We were moving all of Josh's belongings out of storage, since some of them are going to his sister's apartment. (After we emptied his apartment in Chicago, we simply rented a storage locker, put everything in there, and did not look back. But now, 22 months and $3,000 later, it's time. A lot of his stuff is now in our front hall, but I am determined to be done with it by the end of the week.)

At any rate, I had to take the keys back, which meant that I met the new babies. The little boy, as I had thought from Facebook photos, looks much as Josh did at that age, and has the same easygoing temperament. I didn't ask to pick him up. Breathe in, breathe out.

Some high schools friends of the young mother were over with their own baby, and that young lady chattered happily about how wonderful it would be for the two sets of twins growing up. "Automatic best friends," she said.

I suppose that, after I left, she learned that it doesn't always last.

I'm writing this just to get it out of my system. This is why, I suppose, it is so hard to maintain normal friendships.

Other people are, I think, at the pool today and planning barbecues for tonight.

5 comments:

Mrs. M said...

"A lot of his stuff is now in our front hall, but I am determined to be done with it by the end of the week."

This was a parenthetical note, but holy cow, Gannet. Will be praying over this endeavor this week.

But your day? Breathtakingly painful all on its own. I'm sorry.

Cynthia said...

Oh man, what a hard, hard day. You're in my prayers.

Carol said...

Baby steps with lots of deep breaths. So painful.

Karen said...

So many painful triggers and memories to trip over. Bruises on an already broken heart. Strange how the passing of a beloved child contaminates with trauma so many seemingly benign things. Like an avalanche it all shakes together and rolls down till you are buried under it. With Josh's things being in the house, I'm sensing a very difficult week. I will be praying for you with all my heart, and hugging you from afar. It hurts so much. So very sorry for your many losses, GG. Over and over again.

Gabriele said...

{{{GG}}}