Three weeks ago, today, Charlie had to travel to southern California for a business trip. At the last minute, he decided that since he would be in the area - he would fly to Phoenix, instead of San Diego, so that he could enjoy a short visit with his Dad. It's funny how things happen like that ... a little whisper in your ear that you need to create opportunities to make memories; and less than a month later, Charlie is so grateful that he seized that moment and made a detour to see his father.
During his brief visit, Charlie saw his Dad and Kathleen's new home which he had just recently, within the past two (?) months moved in to. It is located in a retirement community, and Alex was so happy to be there, and very excited over the downsize to a simpler life. Photographic evidence indicates that his library was stocked full, which was no surprise to me: Alex has always been one of the most well-read and articulate, comprehensively persuasive, all-around knowledgeable people I've ever known. The majority of books in our extensive library, are predominantly from his overflow.
Father and son went out for lunch. I'd happened to call Charlie while they were together, and was lamenting that three of our four children were home sick from school after having just tested positive for the flu. I'm not recalling what in the course of our conversation gave rise to such amusement - but the last time I heard Alex's voice, it was filled with laughter and good cheer - as it always was.
We're in shock at the moment.
Nothing quite prepares you for losing someone so suddenly. While he had his share of illnesses and ailments, Alex was never really a sick man. He was healthy and strong - and vibrant - and cheerful - and the very finest of gentlemen. When Charlie lost his mother, and I lost my father - we were with them, by their bedsides. We said our goodbyes and told them that we loved them. We held their hands and grieved as they passed. With Alex, even at nearly 91, it just seems surreal that he is gone.
He's gone?
Last year, the entire family traveled to Santa Barbara to celebrate Alex and Kathleen's 25-year wedding anniversary - and Alex's 90th birthday. It was a whirlwind weekend trip, but Charlie and his brothers - and Carolyn - went deep sea fishing with Alex, which is Alex's tradition for his big birthday celebrations. (I'm now kicking myself that I cannot find the picture of Alex on the boat!)
(But this was the lunch, immediately after!)
That evening, after naps for everyone, all of Alex's grandchildren (and great-grandchild) gathered together for a wonderful celebration of his life.
It was a beautiful event. We took pictures, and told stories.
And Charlie and his siblings each had an opportunity to get up and tell their father how much he meant to them.
The past few days, a cold front has hit Texas, with temperatures in the high 30's. This afternoon, almost immediately after receiving the devastating news, we found ourselves at the Junior High School, where we had signed up to volunteer for the track and field meet. Because Elizabeth is really in to track and field - she qualified for four separate events, that started at 3:30 PM and continued until 8:30 PM. For five hours, our entire family stood in the cold, rooting on Elizabeth: who despite the sudden loss of her grandfather, still managed to earn medals - including one first place - in all four of her events. In between each event she would run back to me and ask, "Is it true? Really? Did Papa Alex really pass away today? Am I dreaming? Please tell me I'm dreaming..."
(My intent was to keep the news from her until after her meet. But so much for the best laid plans. How she knew is a separate issue that involves a cell phone and a homeschool student, who shall at the moment remain nameless.)
Tonight, when we returned from the track meet and the feeling returned to our extremities, we lit a candle and told Papa Alex stories. I opened up my blog and yet again - am so grateful for this journal of memories. Tonight, I'm especially grateful for this memory.
George Wellesley was such a good man. When I think of how much he loved his first wife, Jeanne; and how much he loved his second wife, Kathleen. How he raised such an amazing family - that yielded the best man I've ever known ... my husband, Charlie. How he helped us cover rent with our first house while we were in graduate school, and how he attended all of our graduations. How he traveled in to be with us, in our home, days after all four of our children were born. How he flew in to visit us in San Diego and talk us OUT of buying an over-priced house when I had two year old triplets, and was nearly seven months pregnant with Henry. How he flew in to visit with us in Virginia and Texas. How he saved every single one of the business cards my husband ever had - from every one of his jobs. How he could talk to you for hours about politics - or the Pythagorean theorem- or the colonization of Mars - and it was FUN.
True to the iconic legend of St. Patrick that shares his birthday, Alex is the embodiment of good luck and celebration. While I suspect the shock we are now feeling will soon give way to grief, right now I'm just feeling so grateful for his life, and all that he accomplished. I'm so grateful that my husband saw him three weeks ago, today, and created one last special memory with his father. And I'm so grateful that he was never really sick a day in his life.
And yet.
And yet.
I know we will miss him so much.
