My friend Fritch is in town from Dallas.....her mom died, and the services are this weekend. Fritch flew in today, so Moey and I got to meet her for dinner. Even though the reason she's here is sad, our small table at Biagio's in Paramus was nearly rocking with laughter at times. We went to kindergarten together and then to St. Mary's School for first through eighth grade, Dumont High after that. A lot to remember, and smile about.
I remember Mrs. Fritsche well....tall, smart, often walking to Mass on Sundays. I remember her baking chocolate-chip cookies for my friend Fritch. I remember her tidy small kitchen, and I remember their dog. I can also clearly see Mrs. Fritsche's mother--much shorter than Mrs. F. She lived with the family, and walked with Mrs. Fritsche up Fleetwood Road to church. I'd seem them through our car window.....I don't think they wanted a ride.
It's an odd reverse club you join when your parents die, and I'm sorry my friend is in it. It's like you discover the earth is flat when you always thought it was round. That daffodils bloom in the snow, not the spring. That ocean waves crash on the seashore and die, instead of forcing their way back into the surf and rolling out again and again. It's like something you always knew to be right--your parent was there for you, a touchstone--is now wrong. How can that be? you think. Where did they go? You know deep down and instantly that your world is forever changed.
You look at little children and you think about your parents...how they raised you, the work they put into it. You see a wadding toddler in a wool cardigan and think that one day you were small, and your mom buttoned up your sweater. You see mothers in the supermarket, and you want your mother back. You look at old people and you see your parents....wish you had another day @ the diner with them...at the library.....the movies....the beach.....on a car ride.....
I will never understand death, never know where my good Dad went nearly two years ago. I only know that when H. and I got to the ICU room right away in the early morning, there was an old man's body there but my Dad---my Dad was gone. I knew in that moment that what was left was a shell....that his hands looked the same, his face looked the same, but my Dad's laughter, his wisdom, his spirit, had flown to another place and time. And no one would ever love me that fiercely and loyally again.
May Fritch and her five siblings weather the next few days ok. Is there anything worse than watching your parent being brought to a final resting place?
Good night.
TCOY
I remember Mrs. Fritsche well....tall, smart, often walking to Mass on Sundays. I remember her baking chocolate-chip cookies for my friend Fritch. I remember her tidy small kitchen, and I remember their dog. I can also clearly see Mrs. Fritsche's mother--much shorter than Mrs. F. She lived with the family, and walked with Mrs. Fritsche up Fleetwood Road to church. I'd seem them through our car window.....I don't think they wanted a ride.
It's an odd reverse club you join when your parents die, and I'm sorry my friend is in it. It's like you discover the earth is flat when you always thought it was round. That daffodils bloom in the snow, not the spring. That ocean waves crash on the seashore and die, instead of forcing their way back into the surf and rolling out again and again. It's like something you always knew to be right--your parent was there for you, a touchstone--is now wrong. How can that be? you think. Where did they go? You know deep down and instantly that your world is forever changed.
You look at little children and you think about your parents...how they raised you, the work they put into it. You see a wadding toddler in a wool cardigan and think that one day you were small, and your mom buttoned up your sweater. You see mothers in the supermarket, and you want your mother back. You look at old people and you see your parents....wish you had another day @ the diner with them...at the library.....the movies....the beach.....on a car ride.....
I will never understand death, never know where my good Dad went nearly two years ago. I only know that when H. and I got to the ICU room right away in the early morning, there was an old man's body there but my Dad---my Dad was gone. I knew in that moment that what was left was a shell....that his hands looked the same, his face looked the same, but my Dad's laughter, his wisdom, his spirit, had flown to another place and time. And no one would ever love me that fiercely and loyally again.
May Fritch and her five siblings weather the next few days ok. Is there anything worse than watching your parent being brought to a final resting place?
Good night.
TCOY
- Boot camp in the dome.
- Nap, reading.
- Seeing my friends.
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So well expressed, Alice. I am sorry for the losses of everyone that has to go through this, but we all do. Love, Linda
ReplyDeleteHi Lin....thanks for the note....i have been thinking of all of you. love alice
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