We left on the thirty-first and headed towards my in-laws in Effingham, through rain that seemed to come from all directions, only to clear as quickly as it slammed us. We got to Illinois in one piece and earlier than expected. Spent the next day there, visiting Golden Corral and doing some shopping before making the longer trek to Vermont.
Mike’s dad bought us gas. This helped as it was on less stop to make. We stopped in a hotel in Ohio, so we weren’t totally worn out when we got to our destination. A little more rain, and it cleared up. We still made it to Vermont in decent time, even with the overnight stay.
My kids cleaned up the brush around the house. Things my father was too sick to do, but too prideful to ask for help. My husband help my brother clean out the garage, and we found some interesting treasures. Kind of regret not taking the Tandy with me, but I really don’t have a place for it.
The day finally came, and we went to the Green Mountain Church of Christ in Castleton. My sister set up a projector and the few images we did have of dad flashed on the screen. Interestingly, one photo depicted dad with his hand up, indicating he didn’t want his picture taken, showcasing the reason we didn’t have many pictures of him in the first place. Dad never liked having his picture taken and would readily volunteer to take pictures or videos, so he wouldn’t have to be in them.
It was clear for a while until we reached the Midwest. Then it we had a repeat of the storms, book-ending our trip, bringing some form of poetic closure.
I could end this with the clichés like “enjoy what you have now because you never know” and “death can come at any time,” but why? It doesn’t change anything, does it? Experiencing it is the real kick in the pants that works, but then it’s too late.
I’m off to hug my kids – and maybe let them take more pictures of me.
