m

OLDER

READS

RINGS

D-LAND

GUESTBOOK

I can barely recall Sunday evening. It was like everythng else went on while I, and Dad three hours away, sat still. It was as though we had been cut from our tether and now we were foating, steadying ourselves only by calling each other. It seems we spoke a half dozen times that evening, but I really don't know.

Monday and Tuesday are largely a blur. I do remember bits and pieces with some amount of clarity. On Monday afternoon, when Dad let me know that the services had been scheduled for Wednesday evening and Thursday morning, he asked me to be in the receiving line with him and Tami (Ginger's daughter). Somewhere in my brain, I had assumed that I would be, but when he asked, those three words came into focus again: Ginger just died. There will be a funeral and you will need to support your Dad in the receiving line. He had already asked Justin to be a pall bearer.

I spent Monday and Tuesday crying off and on. The three words still held little personal meaning. I couldn't wrap my mind around what it meant to me. But I understood that they meant that my Dad was alone now. I wondered how one can spend 24 and a half years of marriage with someone and suddenly try to go on without them. I still wonder that. I imagine that I will until Dad shows me how it's done. My tears on Monday and Tuesday were of grief on my Dad's behalf.

He kept asking my opinion on various things. "What do you think I should do about her wedding rings?" "Should I cook or will it be ok to have KFC?" "Should I put her in a dress or jeans?" I want to be flattered that my opinion on such important things mattered, but I'm not. I didn't ever want to answer such questions. It's funny, but in hindsight, it had never occured to me that Ginger would someday die. Even when she developed some heart trouble a couple of years ago, her dying never even entered my mind. I even joked to my mom once that if Ginger would just die before Dad, I'd be his only beneficiary. But I never wanted it to happen, nor did it enter my mind that it really could.

Dad would ask my opinion and I would think 'how in the blue hell should I know? I've never done this before!' But neither had he. And the person whose opinion he had asked for the past 25 years was gone. I gave the best advice I knew.

It wasn't until Tuesday that it barely began to sink in that not only had my Dad's wife died, my step-Mom had died also. Picking out clothes to pack for the trip to Dad's was unimaginably hard. I had to pick out outfits that were respectable and solemn and presentable to a flurry of family, friends and acquaintances. I didn't want to pick out clothes because I didn't want there to be a funeral to dress for. I finally settled on two outfits that I knew Ginger would have liked. We were prepared to leave on Wednesday morning.

design by fergie

Bits of fire in the sky push me east back home. I used to live in flames but it's hard on the wings. Choke me. Smoke me. Scare me back. You try but you just can't. I peel the layers in my spare time, and you're easy to see through. I can fly, I've discovered on my own. I may be the lesser butterfly but my wings are just as strong. Who are you to tell me to find a place to land? I may be the lesser butterfly but baby watch me glide.