The day had been filled with spurts of rain and quickly-moving clouds. A preliminary medical appointment to gain me entrance to my first scheduled colonoscopy left me in contemplative state of mind, and the weather did nothing to abate any vague concerns. After attempting to find a gift for a friend’s birthday, and failing, I pulled back into the rainy evening, which was suddenly much darker than the gray day that had preceded it. An end-of-the-errands stop at Trader Joe’s, mostly to pick up a bag or two of their Savory, Sweet and Tart Trek Mix, seems like the strangest place to start crying, but that’s sometimes the way grief sneaks up on me these days.
I had just left the cheese section, and was headed toward the crackers to stock up for an upcoming visit from out-of-town friends, when I saw a couple that instantly reminded me of my parents, maybe fifteen years ago. The man was quietly pushing a cart, while the woman I assumed is his wife (from the easy and loving way they had about each other) circled around picking up items. They stopped in the ice cream aisle, where I surreptitiously (at least I hope) entered their orbit and watched from a distance, as I pretended to examine a box of Green Tea Mochi. The woman picked up a box of frozen cannoli desserts and placed it in the cart with a little smile. She watched as the man made his own sweet selection, smiling a little more, and then they advanced to the next section. Casually but nicely dressed, there was something about their manners and the quiet way they moved around the store unconcerned with anyone but themselves that so vividly recalled the way my parents used to be.
I’d forgotten how long ago that was, and in that suddenly-empty aisle I felt tears come to my eyes as I thought of how much time had passed – how many years my parents lived their lives together – and how short and quick it now felt. And then I thought of how much love there had been too, and how that elongated their finite time into something that maybe knows no real boundary of time – because love, so tangibly realized in the rivulets of salty water down my cheeks, may just be the only thing that can topple time, rendering it meaningless in the end.
My Dad has been gone a long time – much longer than his final physical ending here on earth, when he drew his last breath – and I still miss him. I also still feel his love, and my love for him, and I’ll carry that with me until my last day on earth. Time won’t take that away.
