Thursday, June 20, 2013

Dear Clare, Part VI


I just got the call. Well, I mean I missed a call then called back and got the news. You passed away around 4:30 your time, just as the day was winding down.

I'd make some profound statement about that, but I think I'm out of them.

In general, I'm just out of gas. I can't even find tears right now. I'd express them if I could. I called my best friend this morning, also known as my release valve and unburdened myself on the groggy, waking unsuspecting girl. And she handled it the way she always has. She was my shoulder to cry on and my a word of friendly advice.

She said she'd pray for you.

I don't know why I'm telling you all of this. Doesn't matter much now anyway. The only thing that does matter is getting there. I need to be with everyone and feel that connection. I need my mom to see her granddaughter's shining face and to hug as many necks as possible. I need to be inside that house again, and walk the floors again and have a meal at your table again.

I need to see if I can smuggle some of your Nana jam out of your canning room. How many jars  do you think I can cram into my luggage until A) the family starts to get suspicious or B) TSA corners me in a locked room and does some serious questioning? I guess we'll find out.

Most of all, I'm hoping to feel your presence beaming down on me while I'm there. I'm hoping for some profound moment, like the butterflies. But I don't think that's your thing. I'll settle for the best damn bowl of rhubarb cobbler I've ever had as a sign that you're ok.

Love you;


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