Painful goodbyes

(Originally written August 2009)

So the last 3 days have held a myriad of emotions for me....and I often realize, whether through my wife's prodding or even just looking through old pictures and notes, that the majority of the emotions I experience are never articulated. So here's to turning over a new leaf.

P.S. Be warned that while some of these experiences are probably universal, others (well, hopefully all) are definitely from a guy's perspective, and may seem ridiculous. Well...this is my note. Write your own.

It all started Thursday (truth be told, it started about a year and a half ago) when for the first time since the '08 season opener, Brady would be stepping under center and doing what he does better than anyone does, arguably better than anyone ever has. I was almost embarrassed about my brimming excitement over a pre-season game. Almost. Anyway, that fully lived up to my expectations, and the next day was Friday. Along with the usual amiable repore with co-workers and the general sense that rest of the world just doesn't care so much about dumb things if only on this day, Friday brought with it the unenviable task of packing up family from a house that has been my second home since I first visited my future-in-laws some 9 years ago. There were the typical bittersweet moments; finding old treasures once thought lost, reliving experiences and seeing accolades that accomplished in-laws would never have brought up on their own, sweating and working together, and more than anything the joy of community. Friends who don't often get to hang out just ate up each others company; I was reminded of the first few times I saw this vibrant support network of extended and adopted family throughout Rowley. I reflected both on the unusual treasure it was (and the amazing gift given to those who had never known anything else) and the bittersweet truth that when God calls us somewhere that often means leaving a piece of his body behind, a piece that has been Christ on earth to us. And that seems unnatural to us because it should; we were designed to live in a collosal mansion together, and thankfully, someday, we will.

Friday night found me watching the Red Sox in the top of the ninth inning down by a run, two men on, two outs and two strikes to one Victor Martinez. As I realized how tense my body was for three pitches which were fouled off, I was reminded that the hardest thing in all of sports is hitting a baseball. Try to think of any other athletic discipline where being successful 3 out of every 10 times is considered great. The next pitch was a fastball low and away, and Matinez did the job he was acquired to do, rocketing a line drive to deep right and scoring two runs. Jason Bay. J.D. Drew. What had seemed to be certain defeat in a deafeningly loud Rangers stadium had turned to an 8-4 rout in an almost equally loud Rangers stadium, a testiment to the incredible landscape of Red Sox nation. My mother-in-law, who was of course sowing a complicated design for a loved one(which notably would be worn in yet another wedding and immortalized in pictures, the majority of which people would see and never suspect that the embroidered gowns seen on the Bridal party were made by a homemaker who chose family over certain professional success) turned to me and smiled, commenting on the frequency with which both of us seemed to be the last ones awake in this house. I smiled and felt a knot in my stomach as I remembered another occasion when this had happened, and the ensuing terror I felt that memorable evening as she stood up with the remote, turned the t.v. off, faced me and said, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I need to talk to you about something..." The look on my face told her that she had succeeded, for what I felt was much more than discomfort...unearthly terror...room spinning...blood draining...well, you get the idea.

Then, this morning, with the unparalleled satisfaction derived from hot Dunks coffee, we set out to finish packing and loading the truck. Even more friends and family arrived, and I again would have been happy just to watch the most organic and genuine conversations I've ever heard transpire. The dreaded moment of saying goodbye arrived, and predictably, there were tears. "I'll be back in a week ...we'll be back and forth...this isn't the final goodbye..." And yet it was, as things had fundamentally and irreversably changed- for the better by God's calling, wisdom and design- heartbreakingly nontheless. Our son, who for days had valiantly battled cutting molars, brutal heat and things being in constant upheaval, was fading fast; I put him in the car seat and headed home to Georgetown. He didn't last for a mile, and I watched "the rack monster" (another inexplicable saying from my father-in-law) grab him and drag him off to sleep. I felt again the feeling of immense responsibility which I first felt on our ride home from the hospital, when I was ready to rip apart anyone who came within 20 feet of our car carrying its precious cargo. My wife cried for much of the ride and informed me upon our arrival that she never wanted to take him in the car again. Resisting the impulse to comment on the intricate constraints that would put on...everything, I just hugged her and nodded. This was uncharted waters for both of us.

And now, for the first time in our lives, neither of us has a family or adopted family upstairs, 10 minutes away, or 100 miles away. For my son, who some 3 hours later is still asleep in the next room, life will remain essentially unchanged, with the glaring exception that his Grandpa and MeeMaw are not around nearly as much. His family, our family, is a unit unto itself; yet never autonomous. The adults we learn from and lean on for a sense of security were themselves once faced with the prospect of raising a family and walking by faith, albeit occasionally with hesitant and trembling feet. By God's grace and mercy we take part in the plan He has for us...one step at a time. Today was just a tough step.