Here We Go ...

One of my little known indulgences in life is Joshua Jackson on Dawson's Creek ~ it's true, I admit it, don't judge me. In the close of the series finale Dawson, an overrated character in my person opinion ~ again, don't judge me ~ delivers a profound line that I'm sure was stolen from some timeless piece of literature that I have yet to tackle and discover as the original source. It is something to this effect: The life and death of it all, as if to say that death is the opposite of life. That's not true. The opposite of death is birth. There is no opposite to life, life is ... life.

When I get word, through whatever channel it may come as today as it came from my Grandfather ~ I realize that my list of "Death Delivers" has increased by one, so Robs, Buba, and now my Grandfather Mount are allowed to give me said news ~ I go into Kasi cope mode. It's different when I'm at home, with Dad upstairs and Mom in the kitchen on the phone constantly. But for the past, almost eight years, I've been away from home. The Kasi Cope Method is easy to spot: few words, lots of hiding as I grieve/worry/anticipate/breath on my own, late night calls to CA to make me laugh and remind me of the here and now, early morning calls to Dad to talk through my thoughts that came in the middle of the night, lots of writing about nothing, lots of laughter about nothing, lots of tears about nothing, and the daylight and public time consisting of the phrases "I'm fine, thank you" "Peachy" and "Sure, it's life".

I remember being in CA when I got word that Buba was in a motorcycle accident ~ something my family already has a bit of anxiety of but a strong love that beats out said anxiety. I had Cass and E and we had a day to get to. So when Bunk called after he got the matter-of-fact-check-in-email that morning upon arrival at the office with word of the accident he heard the Coping Kasi. That afternoon I was grateful for his relief for dinner, as that obviously isn't a strength even out of Kasi Coping Mode, and his entertainment for the children as I digested what was happening in UT. I was quiet as he pulled out the guitar that night and played for the kids. I was more grateful for the quiet and man of few words ~ who did not push the topic that clearly loomed overhead that night ~ than I ever had been.

When I got word about Sam I found a book, a series actually, grateful to the Lender who didn't ask questions. I made my way north, during the drive I let my mind get lost in his laughter. Upon arrival at the House on the Corner I opened the book and breathed for what seemed to be the first time that day. The tears came, sleep came for a bit, but then I awoke to a quiet house full of no one asking questions ~ it was lovely. I got lost in the world of Harry and made it through that.

Today I was coming out of an empty apartment, casually talking to Gramps when he gave me the news. We finished the conversation and as I got into the car I could feel the residue of a mellow and calm, relaxing weekend sweep away as the my mind and body shifted automatically into Cope. I sat for a moment staring at a toddler coming out of the pool, the moment turned into a few minutes and by the time I put the car into reverse I was laughing at his attempt to run away from what must have been a new young mom, who ~ bless her sweet little heart ~ felt it necessary to chase after him and yell at the top of her lungs in this smaller than a breadbox pool area, to that mother I say RELAX. I made the few calls necessary, ran the errands that were on the TODO list for the afternoon, made it back to the Nook where I let the reality of it all hit for a minute, swore, cried, found the seventh novel in the Harry series and began to read. I turned the phone off. When I turned it back on and made my first CA call I left a message, in a happy-non-Mount-funeral-voice (which you all get by the way and it just causes me great anxiety for future reference). I turned the phone back off and read some more. I turned to back on to hear Robs on the answering machine, in a non-Mount-funeral-voice, she knows what I can handle. I called back and as I spoke with her we laughed, made plans, confirmed thoughts, laughed, swore, laughed, made plans, laughed, and laughed. She's in her Robin Cope mode, she's fine, peachy in fact. We are a little bit the same.

The fact of the matter is that everyone dies and everyone deals with death a little bit differently. Life is what happens right now, tonight. Life is the following call to CA and the laughter as I conveyed my lack of communication and the consequences thereof as if he hadn't already lived though nine years of it. And life is the louder laughter that came at his confession of the 21 year old. Life is a roadtrip to Mount Shashta and an unexpected weekend with family. Life is the laughter that said weekend will include. Life is the tears that said weekend will include. Life is the conversations that will come, the lessons that will be learned, the growth that will ensue in the next few days, weeks, for me ~ as I am the stubborn one ~ years. So here's to the life of it all ...