What I usually tell people about Carol Staubach is that she failed statistics in college and she was the smartest woman I’ve ever known. When she retired, Carol was in the topmost ranks of the CIA. She was clever, decisive, and ambitious. So, if she failed statistics, it is perfectly okay that I did, too. She was my best friend Jessica’s mom and at her celebration of life event this weekend it was clear that the people who knew her will miss her now that she’s gone.
|My favorite pic of JoJo and me. We were 15.|
Listening to them talk, I felt surges of gratitude. First, to be able to be there. Then to be part, even peripherally, of a love so fierce and sure. Then to witness the gratitude each of them had for knowing her. And to witness the way they’re loving each other through the loss of someone so precious.
Last fall we buried both my Uncle Howard and my Papa. I remember at the time feeling the devotion and respect we all had for them. It was our blessing to have known them that held us upright through the services and the grief.
And it’s still coming. The grief, that is. Being in a funeral home triggers it. Certain music, certain phrases, and I’m remembering the cadence of Papa saying the blessing and Uncle Howard’s throaty laugh. This fall when we go back to Clemson for football, I’m sure it’ll be there, too.
Jessica called those moments of remembrance angel kisses. Small reminders that the person you’ve lost is with you. A song they loved coming on the radio just as you’re thinking of them, a story about them coming to mind because of a seemingly-random coincidence.
|My 2nd favorite pic of JoJo and me. We were 20.|
There have been quite a few deaths in our Life on Clemson Road over the last two years. Many were peripheral to Charlie and Hollie and myself (like this one and this one), but some were rather near like Aunt Carolyn, Uncle Howard, and Papa.
I’m at that age now where those whom we are meant to outlive will begin leaving us. Each time we gather to pay our respects, I feel such gratitude for having known the people we mourn. Always the love of their families blossoms around me. The softness and warmth of care and devotion blankets us. The strength and passion of perseverance and dedication holds us up even as we crumble into hugs and tears.
Carol’s granddaughter Aubrey has a bracelet with charms from each of the cities they visited together. It’s a heavy silver chain that jingles and catches the glint of Arizona sunlight when she extends her arm to show it. Those moments, I told her, that time together, you’ll never regret it. I never have.
It was with devotion and love I crossed the country to be with Jessica while she zombied through the second-hardest day of her life. But with gratitude and peace that I journeyed home, knowing she, too, is loved.
I know for certain the angel kisses will keep coming. They’ll catch us off guard and remind us how very lucky we are to have forged those bonds.
I’m so sorry, JoJo, for your loss. My heart breaks for you. And when you need me, know I’m here and can be there after a *short* overlay in the worst town to stain a map. ::wink::