Landing at San Diego airport, night or day, is a memorable experience. You fly right through the building of downtown. As I landed here tonight, all the memories of flying here with Tom's ashes washed over me. Watching the downtown, familiar building flashing by, that landing almost a quarter century ago was the first time I ever came alone to Tom's home town.
My mom had stayed with me for a few weeks after the funeral. She and I flew together back to the west coast, then she went on home and I went to see Tom's parents. Bringing the ashes of their only son. The short flight from LA to San Diego was the first time I'd been physically alone since the whole nightmare began -- but in reality I was alone all the time.
I'm alone on this trip, too, hopscotching across the US to be with the rest of my family for my Aunt Mar's funeral tomorrow. Between the blizzards and the general chaos of my life these days, it seemed uncertain if I would make or not. But I am here -- still carrying ashes.
I did not know this part of the story. What a terribly difficult journey, both the first time and now this time with those memories.
ReplyDeleteI wonder how many people we see on airplanes who are carrying invisible things far weightier than two carry-on items.
Keeping you in prayers!
ReplyDeleteI think I've missed quite a lot of the story, but your words, your reflections and mostly your bravery speak volumes.
ReplyDeleteKeeping you in my prayers and thoughts .... and saying a prayer of gratitude that I know you.
Blessings,
Cindy