Diamonds on the Soles of My Shoes

Tonight I brought our cousin Rick to Seward to say a final farewell to his brother, our cousin Chuck, who is dying of brain cancer.

I don't think I need to go into this much because every reader of this blog can imagine what this is like for Chuck's immediate family. You can also imagine what it is like for the second line of defense, our family: The help or lack of help we can provide. The words of comfort we try to speak that have no where to go. It's tricky.

It has got me thinking about beginnings and endings. About a month ago, right before my ill fated truck wreck and hospital visit, I was cleaning (I know...I know...grab your oxygen mask, it's a shock!) and found some old cassette tapes. The truck cassette player still works and so I was making my kids listen to them. Early Prince was not a good choice for Fal, as he seems to glom right on to the parts of the songs that no one at school will appreciate him singing. "I wanna be your...lover..."

I made another selection, Paul Simon's Graceland. In an interesting twist, Marina fell in love with the song, "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes". She made me rewind it. She wanted to know all about that image. She wanted to know how a person could get diamonds on the soles of her shoes. I was blown away by her eagerness to hear about this and was instantly transported back to a distant summer in Yosemite. I told her that I used to know a young man who thought I had diamonds on the soles of MY shoes, and that I am sure, through the mere act of being my daughter, that she did in fact have diamonds on the soles of her shoes.

Unfortunately, she is a literal-ist, like her father, and said, "maybe if I used a glue gun." She popped me right back into the now.

The days when we listened to those songs are like a lifetime ago, but still, the art of that time brings them back so clearly. All the memories of a youthful Alana sitting by the Merced River, driving around in Sid, playing with her friends. Happy times, sad times, wild times, painful times. The time rolling by...and like a wave, rolling back, surprising me by coming out of nowhere.

My pictures of Falcom as a tiny kid crawling around in Yosemite that he HAD to hang up in his classroom this year are now down laying on my counter waiting to get put back into his baby book. Where did my baby go? Last weekend I got to listen to him sleep in the back of the Mel Mobile and I had him back, but when he woke up he was a gape toothed 10 year old again.

Now Phyllis (Chuck's mom) is loosing her baby. Rick is loosing his brother. Time is going by and circling back all at once. Are we still living strongly? With purpose? Are we burning our karma or creating more? When we say hello how long are we going to get to keep that friend? When we say good bye, how long until we are brought back together? Will it be in this life, or the next?

I broke away from the hospital room and had a perfect moment over this amazing burger in the quiet of an old train car near the Seward Harbor while Neil Young's Harvest Moon was playing over head. No, I'm not making that up! After Neil Young was Keb Mo. And the burger! It was perfect! And there was not one kid with me grossing me out by eating with their hands or interrupting me, just me and quiet and Sudoku.

Then I took the van (that's right, that big ass Mormon family van, The Mel Mobile) over to Safeway where I bought a pie for Rick, Chuck and Phyllis. On my way back to the hospital in the parking lot of Safeway, I got distracted by a group of Chilean Tourists who needed a ride. They were cruise ship types and it brought me great joy to load them into the van to get them out of the rain and to their hotel. I loved hearing their voices. Their accents. Their amazement at Alaska. Beautiful people sitting in my dusty, kid worn van. Yes, I took this picture of it for my blog.

My family was waiting for me at the hospital. They loved hearing about my fun with the Chileans in the hillbilly van and each had a big slice of strawberry pie. Us having desert last weekend, while camping in the Mel Mobile. Picture courtesy of Falcom.

Pretty soon the doctor came in. He checked over Chuck while Phyllis (Chuck and Rick's Mom) dropped over from a blood sugar problem. Rick can barely move with his paralysis. Chuck was trying to stay conscious enough to help me help his mom. What a mess. I couldn't believe that doctor could just leave me in that mess like that. Maybe he needs to pay off his hot tub and was hoping I would have Phyllis admitted so he could score a paycheck. No, he probably just realized she was manifesting her intense grief. The nurse on duty got me some peanut butter and in a few minutes she was back on her feet.

On the way home Phyllis made several comments about dying. She's going to die of a broken heart.

That is not going to stop me from hauling her to Anchorage with me tomorrow to take Rick back to the airport to head back to Florida.

I'll do my best to make them smile and help them step out of this moment in time during our trip tomorrow, but unfortunately, I won't be able to keep them there. They will have to experience re-entry...

In the parking lot of the hospital, a robin family has made their nest in a tree only two feet off the ground. It is killing me having to check on that crazy family each day. Every day I think, "Little Robin..if none of these eggs make it and you've been wasting your time because of this bad choice you made, I'm going to be pissed! This is the kind of literary symbolism I HATE!" Upon checking on them today, I found her still there, sitting tightly, waiting out the storm...