Author: ferylfiles

We have the venue and the catering lined up for Bryan’s service. This is such a relief and a reminder of how loved Bryan was/is/was/is. Damn, I hate verb tenses right now. HATE. The love still is and will be. Gah. I was nervous about tackling the venue/catering items because I want things to be just right and the sort of party Bryan would have wanted. But my biggest concerns have been calmed. We have speakers for the formal program who are, for lack of a better description, Bryan’s brothers. Bryan was an only child, but he had a knack for choosing to surround himself with people of integrity and honor. I look forward to what each has to say. We will have music, food, and beverages that Bryan loved. We will visit and laugh and cry and tell stories in community. I still have some pretty big tasks left to do, but they seem much more manageable now.

In the meantime, I will bake and paint and create and write.

Life comes in layers. Onions? Parfait? Beauty, pain, grief, joy, delight. Today would be my Mom’s 82nd birthday. She’s been gone since the fall of 2007. Today was also the day Mary and I went to clean out Bryan’s office. Thankfully, David, Richele, and Natasha provided support, presence, humor. I may have said “too easy” through clenched teeth a time or two. Bryan had worked for Whitman College over 25 years and his collection of cords, books, notepads, sailboat calendars testified to that. While the whole process took less than an hour from packing boxes to filling cars, it felt like a lifetime compressed. What even is time?

The boxes and bags will linger in the car until I’m ready to face that next step. We only have to do these hard things once. Thank goodness. Mary and I decompressed with a meal and a walk. I am lucky beyond measure to have such an extraordinarily kind, loving, smart step-daughter. I would not have survived these past months without her. Without question. And whoever is for her, I am for them.

Bryan had many curious items, but a couple of my favorites were core samples taken from the Maxey renovation that he asked if he could have from the contractors. He used these as lamp bases. Bryan was never a fan of stark overhead light. He created a warm glow wherever he could. His messy office was no different. These cylanders of concrete and composite looked like pieces of art. Mary said she could almost hear him ask “can I have those?” They will now be part of her garden art and flower pot displays. Apt use of something seen by many as garbage but by Bryan and the two of us a slice of history and a bit of unexpected art. The unexpected layers are often the most beautiful.

Eight years ago I married the best person I ever knew in a restaurant in Portland, Oregon. It was a small, quiet, surprise. We scheduled it for the tail end of Mary’s spring break her senior year at Reed. What an incredible day.

Today, I still celebrate every good thing about that day and every day since, but damn. My heart hurts.

I have lunch planned with my favorite redhead and I will absolutely paint my heart out this afternoon. If you’re so inclined, listen to Crosby Stills & Nash’s “Southern Cross” and think of us.

A day late with this one, but sometimes the ideas take a little longer to come together.

Those who know me at all know I love to bake. Cookies are probably my favorite, but bread, bagels, cakes, and pies rank right up there too. Yesterday, many celebrated Pi(e) Day (3.14). Sadly, I did not, but the thing about knowing how to bake is any day can be pie day if I wish it to be so. Bryan was a very good baker–his specialty was savory quiche for breakfast, (Yep, a breakfast fella who liked busty brunettes–the liberal Ron Swanson of Walla Walla). Mary’s mom, Sara, is a fine baker too and her peach pie is probably the best I’ve ever tasted. Mary has helped all of us in the kitchen developing her own skills so that she can whip up a batch of eclairs or rainbow cake or cookies like old hat.

I’ve recently listened to the original Broadway cast recording of Waitress, a musical that has a strong baking theme and it’s made me think of our family’s take on baking and pie. Some folks walk through this world thinking everything is a zero-sum game: if you win some, I automatically win less. Bryan, Mary, and I would talk about this a lot saying “it’s NOT pie!” whether it is success or joy or love, more for you doesn’t mean less for me. More just means more. And we can ALWAYS bake more pie.

Love isn’t pie. Love is a whole bakery.

A month. How is that even real? A friend and her husband who are retired/semi-retired came by for a visit. We talked about the nature of time and they made reference to their nickname for how the days kind of meld together–“Blursday” was their affectionate term. I find that to be incredibly apt. Time is still an accordion. Time with my bestie and sister went so fast. The evenings all by myself go on forever. Is it too early to go to bed? Can I wait until at least 9pm? Then off to bed and sleep escapes me. That time drags on and on. At least I have folks in Australia, Hawaii, or the Eastern time zone who I can message.

The 20th of this month is our eighth wedding anniversary. My birthday follows on shortly afterward in April. These benchmarks of being without are the rites of passage for all who have lost someone. These are just mine and I’m dreading them.