The Midlife

I had put off my trip to BJ’s, because I didn’t want to face the fact I was going there to buy drinks for your memorial service. In any way possible, I wanted to help your mom with the planning of an event no parent should have to do for their child. I know. You weren’t a child, but to Moms their children, even as young adults, will always remain the same: my beautiful baby, from birth to grown up, forever fixed in time.

The last time I saw you, you were with D – all smiles, with a newly shorn buzzed head. Your beautiful big, brown eyes smiling so brightly. I was filled with joy to see the two of you, now grown up, at one time among my favorite middle school students.

Since I learned of your untimely passing, I have pushed down my feelings. Deep down to a depth I would not have to face, until now. I don’t want to think about your passing, of anything that could have gone wrong when your not being here is the ultimate in wrong. Even in your mid-20s, you will live in my mind and heart as a great kid. A wonderful daughter. A loving soul. And I will hold onto one particularly funny memory.

Remember when I house-sit your crazy cat, Mystery? I didn’t have the heart to tell you how much I really dislike cats, but because my husband LOVES them, I knew he would take the lead in helping care for Mystery. Plus, I knew it would mean something to you to know that someone who loved you dearly was caring for someone you loved so much.

When it was time for me to return Mystery to you, I couldn’t. He simply would not cooperate. He tucked himself away in our bedroom closet and hissed at me, when I tried to place him in his travel crate. Haha, he must have been saying to me. I’ll wait here for J. She knows how to handle me.

So, I had to drive the distance to your place to bring you to mine to collect your mysterious cat. I remember we were laughing so hard trying to cajole him into the crate. We looked like Lucy and Ethel in slapstick humor.

Yesterday, I dusted my furniture and among my sentimental knick-knacks was an adorable ceramic bowl you had made in high school. You gave it to me for Christmas one year. I’ve had it for more than eight years now; your initials etched into the bottom. I won’t part with it.

I’m not prepared to say goodbye, although I won’t have a choice next week. I will have to see your mother and the many dear friends who loved you for so many reasons. Your kind and soft-spoken nature. Your laugh. The sweet quirkiness of your spirit.

I remember telling you how much you meant to me, how special you are and were. I am hoping you knew this. I will look after your mom; I don’t want her to feel alone.

If there is a heaven, I imagine you are there playing with all the cats and eating an endless supply of Babybel or Laughing Cow cheeses.

I will miss you. May you rest in peace, sweet J.

Love,

-C