Albuquerque was about being with my brother, his family, and Dad. I saw Dad in his home near the Sandia Mountains where he lives with six other people family-style, then later with my brother and his family.
Dad was understandably eager to get out, and several times, with no destination in mind, I drove the busy four lane city streets in a large rectangle, and then brought him home. Friday afternoon I tried a practice run to my brother's. I sat in front of the house and called Mary, and she invited us in. First Sam and PhuPhu were greeted by the twins and exited barking ensued. Then, at the door, their four collies greeted us. Enthusiastically on the job. I had a merry time with the twins, and Mary; Dad enjoyed it, and we headed back to his place.
In Albuquerque, seeing my brother and his family filled me with gladness. The bright spirit that I saw in my brother as a child still shines in him and is met with the same in Mary and the twins.
On Superbowl Sunday, we gathered at their home. The game took a back seat to the dynamics of the table, where their family, friends, Dad, Andre and I enjoyed our share of Mary's 89 meatballs, spaghetti, home-made French bread, salad, strawberry shortcake. The large-screen HDTV in the den flashed bright colors on empty couch and chairs as we remained circled around the table, glancing at the small kitchen tv behind me, Andre and Dad. The laughter of the twins and their friend erupted from their room and filled the spaces between the laughter and joking conversation of the adults. That's how I like football.
Earlier in the day, snow began falling; from the kitchen window, Mary watched the tip of the mountain disappear in snowy mist; the girls would rush to the window to see, and all the time I wondered if we would be able to leave on Monday.
Although there were a few flakes Monday morning, we packed up and drove away, and the sun broke through as we headed to Elephant Butte, NM.
After a good visit, leaving is emotional, especially leaving Dad. It is too much to touch all the feelings that arise from not being with him, then seeing him briefly. Feeling the passage of our lives. Recently at 92, I heard the smile and sense of awe in his voice on the phone as he said, "You know, I think I'm getting old."
Any time I can spend with my brother and his family fills in the open spaces of not-knowing, where our lives diverged so long ago when I went away to college, and then moved to Massachusetts. Now it feels so good to be with him and his family. To feel their welcoming warmth; to see the gift he tends—a happy family, a fulfilling career. We'll see them all again on our way back through.
Dad was understandably eager to get out, and several times, with no destination in mind, I drove the busy four lane city streets in a large rectangle, and then brought him home. Friday afternoon I tried a practice run to my brother's. I sat in front of the house and called Mary, and she invited us in. First Sam and PhuPhu were greeted by the twins and exited barking ensued. Then, at the door, their four collies greeted us. Enthusiastically on the job. I had a merry time with the twins, and Mary; Dad enjoyed it, and we headed back to his place.
In Albuquerque, seeing my brother and his family filled me with gladness. The bright spirit that I saw in my brother as a child still shines in him and is met with the same in Mary and the twins.
On Superbowl Sunday, we gathered at their home. The game took a back seat to the dynamics of the table, where their family, friends, Dad, Andre and I enjoyed our share of Mary's 89 meatballs, spaghetti, home-made French bread, salad, strawberry shortcake. The large-screen HDTV in the den flashed bright colors on empty couch and chairs as we remained circled around the table, glancing at the small kitchen tv behind me, Andre and Dad. The laughter of the twins and their friend erupted from their room and filled the spaces between the laughter and joking conversation of the adults. That's how I like football.
Earlier in the day, snow began falling; from the kitchen window, Mary watched the tip of the mountain disappear in snowy mist; the girls would rush to the window to see, and all the time I wondered if we would be able to leave on Monday.
Although there were a few flakes Monday morning, we packed up and drove away, and the sun broke through as we headed to Elephant Butte, NM.
After a good visit, leaving is emotional, especially leaving Dad. It is too much to touch all the feelings that arise from not being with him, then seeing him briefly. Feeling the passage of our lives. Recently at 92, I heard the smile and sense of awe in his voice on the phone as he said, "You know, I think I'm getting old."
Any time I can spend with my brother and his family fills in the open spaces of not-knowing, where our lives diverged so long ago when I went away to college, and then moved to Massachusetts. Now it feels so good to be with him and his family. To feel their welcoming warmth; to see the gift he tends—a happy family, a fulfilling career. We'll see them all again on our way back through.
posted by Susan at 6:43 PM
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