I have just witnessed the dismantling of the rest of the physical manifestation of the being we call Mary. It was unnerving. I couldn’t get out of the truck when we got there. Couldn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to see the house without Mary standing on the porch, with her arms wide open, saying “me-ma! You’re here! Yeah!”. Kerry left me alone and went on to make his peace. He was here when we met with the DA for the first time. This time wasn’t any easier. I didn’t want to go, couldn’t go.
After awhile I crawled out, with eyes down, and walked around the yard looking at all the trees and plants. The grass was tall enough to play hide and seek in. It has rained so much in the last two weeks Donnie wasn’t able to cut it. I met up with Julie and Melissa at the garden. There in one of her raised garden boxes amid the grape vines were lettuce plants. She told me when she was here for Julie’s birthday that she had just finished planting lettuce, sweet peas, and pepper plants. Big beautiful lettuce plants ready to eat. Carol had already picked a few last time she was there. We picked the rest, ate the pea pods from the sweat peas, and picked some wild flowers that had grown up. All this amid our tears, drippy noses, breaking hearts, and sighs of anguish.
I kept walking around the yard. I found “Choda’s spot”, as Mary called it. It’s not marked but I could tell where it was. She would lay her flowers over him once in awhile. I walked over to the rock fire pit where I was once attacked by yellow jackets. They flew up my long dress I was wearing. That was quite as sight to see and remembering it made me smile even though I didn’t want to. Finally made it to the porch where yellow jackets had made a next in their grill. Usually there is daily activity on the porch, coming and going, doggies playing, cooking out down below…. No time for anything to make a nest. But not anymore.
Walking in the house took my breath away. I can see why Tony almost passed out. It was just as if she was in the bathroom and I waiting for her to come out. Sewing machine poised ready to sew her purses. She had taken up spinning and the “yarn” she had made was laying on the table ready to be picked up. We all sat in the living room looking at everything, soaking in what the essence of Mary, of Tony, of their life together. We looked at the books and cd’s on the coffee table. We were babbling on and on, remembering moments with Mary, laughing and crying at the same time.
On the table beside the kitchen door lay her gloves, hats she wore, grocery list on a torn piece of paper, spare keys, pieces of her every day life. I wonder if she was wearing a hat that night. The only piece of clothing I got from her car was the jacket she had brought. It was probably lying in the seat beside her with her purse, her black and silver handmade purse she loved. The funeral home destroyed everything she was wearing including her shoes. They said we would not want them back, they were unusable. Just like her. People often talk about “the body” instead of the person after they’ve died. I can’t separate the two. I ask myself over and over, where was that special spiritual connection we think we have with people in our lives that should have told me INSTANTLY that something happened. Should have woke me from my sound sleep that night at the instant she realized what was happening. I should have heard her cry out in my dreams and sat up in bed. It’s a common question I’m told. Why couldn’t I feel her in my soul?
This is all I can write for now.
The stars in the sky are my eyes watching over you.
The sun in the day is my smile shinning down.
The breeze on the hill tops are my hugs surrounding you.
The songs of the birds are my laughter floating around.
And with each breath you take, my love abounds.Mary