Saturday, November 26

Home from Thanksgiving at Mammoth. There was snow on the side of the road, but it didn't snow on us and the roads were clear. Cold—40-50 degrees. One problem: Snow melt slid off the condo roof and slightly dented the hood of son-in-law's car.

Son-in-law took the grandson skiing while Daughter 1 and I walked around the town and along some trails. The air was fresh and clean and cold.

A very different Thanksgiving, with a grocery store dinner instead of a day spent in the kitchen. Daughter 1 made brussels’ sprouts and asparagus to go with it. The turkey was good and moist, the gravy and mashed potatoes were also good. The stuffing was wet and stodgy, and the cranberry sauce too jammy. But we had a very good time. Besides eating, we did a jig saw puzzle and played a rummy game. 

Drove back today, Saturday.

Our young British cousin arrives from her Thanksgiving cruise tomorrow morning. Son 3 will pick her up from the cruise ship with his little girls, and I will meet them at his house. That way I will get to see his older daughter before she returns to Berkeley.

Busy, busy, keeps me connected to the world.

Missing Ren a lot. Still. 

So up and down, up and down. I wonder how long this will last. Or, when I will realize a new normal that I can live with? 

 Saturday November 19

Last night Don Cucos with Daughter 1. I drank the regular margarita and felt quite tipsy. We came back home and planned the meals for Mammoth next week—Thanksgiving.

Tonight, dinner with old friend and her husband. She cooked risotto with lemon, basil, olive oil, and shrimp. Very good and cooked perfectly. I’d like the recipe. She also made an apple gallette which was very tasty.

One thing notable is I could talk about Ren without getting maudlin. It was quite a lively conversation—not at all awkward. 

The drive out to there house at night felt intimidating. The car headlights "starred out" as they came towards me. The freeway wasn’t so bad, as tail lights are not as bright as headlights. However, there was a lot of traffic, so I had to pay attention. Knowing the route made it easier.

I don’t really want to go to Mammoth for Thanksgiving with Daughter 1 and family, but it will probably do me good to get away. I bought waterproof boots today, so at least my feet will stay dry if it snows.

Are these the first steps towards resuming my normal life? 

Friday, November 4, ctd.

  After the niche-side ceremony, we drove to The Smokehouse for lunch in their private room. Many people had Manhattans in honor of Ren, and I had a G&T. (He liked those too and not as strong for this lightweight!) We ordered from a fixed menu that was generally good, plus the Boston Crème Pie for dessert. The wife of Son 1 gave me printed cards she'd had made with a prayer and Ren’s name on one side, and a picture of BVM on the other. Very sweet of her. I handed them out to everyone. The lunch was generally upbeat, and it was great to see the family all come together.

Son 1's family had to leave afterwards to attend their youngest son's “Parents’ Weekend” at UCSB. (Cancelled his first year because of Covid restrictions.) They were all there for the niche ceremony, which was the important one. (Their daughter, at school in Zurich, sent a lovely email expressing her appreciation of Ren.)

 That evening the rest of us attended the Burbank Art Club opening reception. My high school good friend and her husband were also there, as were Ren's cousins and their spouses. The Art Club had created a lovely display honoring Ren with his photograph and a book where anyone could write a few comments. The president said a few kind words about Ren's enthusiasm and his service to the organization. At the end of the presentation, we all sang along to “On the Road Again” accompanied by a guitar and led by a singer. It made me cry quietly, but Son 3 noticed and came over to put his arm across my shoulders. 

 Friday, November 4

The niche-side celebration was a blur. (But later, I remembered more and I do write about it below. Read on!) I remember images: the hot sun, the flowers around Ren's photograph, my family arrayed in front of me on folding chairs. My brother and his wife had driven from Oregon, and I was glad we had selected a wheelchair-friendly location. Family spoke, I spoke, and we shared good memories.  The youngest granddaughters shared tears and drawings to illustrate how much they would also miss Ren. It was a moving time, but I held it together. I couldn’t hold the urn for long though, so Son 2 stood next to me and held it when I tired. I didn’t expect it to be so heavy. I had lost weight, so I'd probably lost muscle too.

SOME MEMORIES FROM THE NICHE-SIDE CEREMONY

On Friday November 4 we held a niche-side ceremony for the immediate family. One of the directors, (that someone said could have been out of central casting) was a very stiff and formal man whose solemn expression never varied. He led our procession of cars up the hill to the area where the niche was located. Everyone there except two granddaughters—too far away in university to attend. The director introduced himself and welcomed us. Ren’s urn rested on a small table and was surrounded by flowers. His framed photograph had been placed on top on top of the urn. 

First, Daughter 1 spoke of how much Ren meant to her. She told the story of the two rose bushes they chose together: Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Kennedy—one red and one white. Unable to decide between them, Ren bought both of them for her, and he helped her plant them in our garden. She wove a story of her understanding, as an adult, of how it was possible to love two fathers at the same time, just as she had loved those two very different rose bushes. Very moving and very well done.

Then I read aloud excerpts from sympathy cards that illustrated how people saw Ren—from those who knew him as a young man to those who only encountered him at family gatherings. His talents, his kindness, and his interest in them shone through. Somewhere in there I read from "Funeral Blues," but it was hard.

Son 3 spoke of how Ren inspired him, and he focused on their shared interest in cars—especially his Triumph—and also Ren’s example of raising kids not born to him.

Son 2 talked about Ren giving him advice not to quit his job, who, instead, followed Ren's example of taking risks, as in running his own business and marrying a woman with five children.

Son 1 spoke of the example Ren set of entrepreneurship in his store, and his consulting business. He reminded us also of Ren’s last-minute donation of $1500 to enable Son 1 to attend Stanford, which changed his entire life—from meeting his wife, to the children they had, and to Son 1's many years as a Stanford employee. 

The son-in-law spoke of Ren being a saint for marrying me with five children!

Daughter 2 spoke of Ren’s calmness in teaching them all to drive, and of making sure she and Daughter 1 had cars to go to college—Volkswagen Rabbits.

My brother said Ren told him at our wedding that he loved me very much, and that he wasn’t intending to discipline the boys or girls, but just support wherever he could. He didn’t intend to try to be a father, as they already had one.

Wife of Son 3 came forward to say a few words of appreciation.

Finally, Grandsons 1 and 2 spoke of Ren’s kindness and generosity in talking to them, listening to them, and showing interest in whatever they were doing.

Afterwards Son 2 stood beside me as I placed the urn in the niche and put a small toy Mustang in with it. In my speech I said Ren’s heaven must be a wild and rocky road with 4-wheel-drive Jeep. But all I had was a toy Mustang and thought it appropriate because he never got one, even though he wanted one. He even had a Mustang savings account!

Daughter 1 had saved a selection of music that Ren liked and played it as we entered and as we left. The last song was Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again,” which title will be inscribed on the niche tablet when it is finally finished and installed. (The urn bears the phrase, “You may be a redneck if . . .” the footnote to all of his emails. He would fill in the full phrase with varying funny endings.)

 

Wednesday, November 2

Today’s big activity was giving two of Ren's cousins all of the phots and other memorabilia from his mother's side of the family that Ren had been storing in his office closet. We held back on his father's side items in case any of those relatives are interested in them. I have a feeling they won’t be, but you never know. I’ll ask.

 Otherwise plans for Friday’s event at Forest Lawn are firming up. Son 1 and family will be here (except for their daughter who is at school in Switzerland, so too far.) Son 2 and his family except one daughter who has just left for New York and her first year at university. Daughter 2 will also be here. Son 3 and his family, and daughter 2 and her family will also attend. My brother and his wife will drive down from Oregon. Afterwards all 20 of us will all lunch at the Smokehouse restaurant in Burbank.

We plan for all of us to attend the Art Club show that evening from 7-9. Ren was past president and current web master for the Burbank Art Association. They will present a short tribute to him. 

Saturday we rest.

Sunday I will host an Open House from 1-4 where others, cousins and close family and friends will come. Son 1 and his wife must drive back to San Mateo for work, so can’t be there. A good friend from San Jose might drive down. Other cousins and good friends will attend. It will be a busy weekend, but the family will help with it all.

 In between all the preparations, life continues.

The paperwork seems to be easing up. However, I’m still waiting for CalSTRS to send the first check from Ren's pension so I know I can cover the monthly bills!

 Tuesday November 1

One month today. I can’t believe it’s been a whole month. I am still stunned; I am still hurting; I am still so sad—for Ren’s death, for the past year of chemo pain and sickness, that we didn’t have more time together.  It was too quick at the end.

Daughter 1 and I visited the niche today after I made the final payment on the funeral/cremation/niche cost. She is making the arrangements for the “un-funeral” on Friday, so it was good for her to see where it will take place. She ordered and paid for flowers for the urn. We can place something inside the niche with the urn. I’m not sure what, if anything, to put.

Son 2 came over yesterday to copy some slides for his slide show of Ren. He said son 1 and family will be here Friday for the family gathering at the niche, but that they couldn’t make Sunday due to a conflict.

 Busy week, but I wonder what I will do next week when all the business end of it is finished. How will I carve out a life for myself? How will I find balance with half of me gone?

 People are so kind. I had a long and comforting email from cousin in Devon, UK today, and a surprise email from a former professor/mentor who wrote some kind and moving words. Kathy, a former colleague, was another one who wrote a lovely note. 

So many people have reached out to me: taken me to dinner, to lunch, talked on the telephone, texted comforting words, sent plants, flowers, and cards. I know now not to hesitate to do the same. There is no one way to express solidarity and sadness. 

It all helps.

 

 

Sunday, October 30, 2022

 Quiet day. I awoke at 4:30 am, and it occurred to me to look in the garage for the dishes Ren inherited from his mother. Sure enough, they were still wrapped safely as they had been when he packed them up in 2006! Poor cousin! I’m not sure she’ll be thankful for all the things we’re passing on, but better to give them to her than the trash collector.

 Feelings of annoyance that Ren has died came over me several times today. Not at Ren himself, but at Luck, or God, or the Fates who took him from us. Sort of: “That’s enough! Now send him back!”

 My brother called. They will drive down on Thursday, so they can be here Friday noon for the “not funeral.”  We will place Ren’s urn in the niche. I will read a poem, “Funeral Blues” by W.H. Auden. Others will say something about Ren. I hope no tears. I’m afraid of starting and not being able to stop.

 Tomorrow I must take Ren’s last paintings into the Art Club show. He'd signed up, paid the entry fee, and fully intended to have them displayed. Then I went to the bank to get a cashier's check for Forest Lawn cemetery.

I must buy Thank You notes.

The busier I keep, the less I brood.