Waxing Nostalgic
Nostalgia-a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations.
I will start this forum with nostalgia. I do so because this week marked a year since my daughter Jennifer passed away. In that year I have had time for many reflections.
I remember when she was 4 years old and I made hamburgers and french fries. I had a big kitchen with this hard-wooden table in it. I put the skillet with the hot grease on that table. There was one fry left floating in that grease. Guess who, behind my back, reached in that skillet to get that fry? I think it safe to say that was her last “don’t touch that it’s hot lesson”. We often laughed about that.
At the beginning of 10th grade a classmate asked her (not maliciously) “Why do you only wear jeans and such?” It was then that she began to change her style and the kid never looked back.
High School graduation time. What’s going on with those credits? Oh, are you sure? Oh yeah, I just sat back and watched her handle her business. And yes, she graduated on time.
When my youngest daughter went to her prom and preparations were being made, Jennifer called Michigan from Florida. She is the Fashionista of the family. Early in the conversation she made it perfectly clear that I was not to touch her sister. She flew in and did her hair, make-up, and everything else needed for a successful appearance.
When her son was born, it was the craziest labor I have ever seen. They gave her a shot of something. I made it to the hospital for her to squeeze the heck out of my hand, curse me out if she needed too, order me out of her room or whatever it is a birthing mother does. But that is not what happened. When a contraction would come, she would in a groggy manner say things like, “Where is the Dr and why isn’t he in here to deliver this baby?” “I wish he would hurry up in here, I’m ready to have this baby.” And, “What’s taking so long?” There were no requests of, “Just shoot me”, “Don’t talk to me right now”, or “I’ll never have sex again”, like the rest of us. I have not seen a labor like that before or since. What a joy to experience the arrival of my 1st grandson.
Once in Florida, a daughter followed and then a son. And both, as babies, she proudly brought to Michigan for all to see. All her visits home was wonderful, even if she did make me cook a holiday meal upon her arrival. So were mine to Florida, even if she did make me cook a holiday meal upon my arrival.
As a pre-teen she started delivering newspapers and on Sundays they were heavy. I would take them to the foot of the 3 blocks that she delivered which made it easier. One day as she was finishing up her route, she made a shortcut through the church parking lot from the block behind our house. I was on the front porch and she bee-lined to me. She told me a man had spoken inappropriately to her and that he too was on his way through the parking lot. Now she was not touched and on a scale of 1-10 let’s give it a point 5. Nevertheless, when she came around that corner, she as good as said “I’ve been 10ed”. “Oh” I said, “Wait a minute”, and went into the house and got my pistol. As he approached our house, I had both questions and statements. Such as “What did you say to my daughter?” He said nothing and kept walking. “You can talk to little girls but not grown women.” I cut a look over to Jennifer and she is the picture of Amen, tell him what he needs to know. That look alone propelled me to do more. I cut another look at her and walked to the sidewalk. By this time, he was about 4 houses away. I raise my pistol and take careful aim. Everybody’s watching. At that moment I bear right with my aim and let off a few rounds. Yes, I missed big time. I wasn’t going to prison for a .5. I then turn to her directly and let her know, “If anybody ever says something to you, you had better come and let me know”. Her affirmation was more a confident facial expression than spoken words.
I think about the day she was born. You know when they come into the world and think the nurse is going to drop them so their arms will outstretch to break the fall. And then they let you hold your baby and they quickly adjust and sink into comfort because they hear the voice they were hearing in the womb.
It’s as though because she is no longer here, I have to go back to that day to realize that she is gone.
Nostalgia, in this instance, also brings melancholy. Another instance of loss in my life of this magnitude would be the loss of my mother. I was a kid. My mind could not grasp the fact that I would never see her again in this life…time did that. In this situation, I grasped it completely and fully although that took about a month and a half. I have experienced the most complete incomplete situation I have ever known. In the last 365 days, I have thought about her every one of them. Alone or in public, the tears fall as they may (or just well up in my eyes). If I have 365, or 3650 days left I will think of her for all of them. I will carry my baby in my heart for the rest of my days.