On Valentine's Day, Billy and I flew to Sacramento. We attended Sandra's memorial service the following day. I dreaded the finality of the service, but before I could even think about that, we had to get to the airport. Valentine's Day fell on a Friday this year, and it was the kick-off of the three-day, President's Day getaway weekend. They were also closing the 405 freeway again, which is Billy's route home. Lyd called me from the road that afternoon and told me that the freeways were a mess. But it wasn't so bad, and we got to the airport in time to grab a cocktail before our flight.
By the time we picked up the rental car at Sacramento airport, and headed out Highway 50 towards Fair Oaks, it was around 10:30, and we'd had pretzels and honey-roasted peanuts for dinner. At about 10:45, we drove past a Taco Bell in Rancho Cordova. It was closed. Everything seemed to be closed, but we finally found a McDonalds, nestled in a corner of a Costco parking lot. We were the only car in drive-through, and they politely asked us if we would mind waiting for our fries. I never regret waiting for fries as it's almost guaranteed that they will be hot and fresh.
I was right about the fries, and I ate the best Big Mac I have ever had in my life. Not that I eat them very often. It had probably been about a decade since I had eaten one. There was a worker blowing debris from the Costco parking lot. I watched him in thought as I hungrily finished my late dinner.
The following morning, we dressed, ate breakfast at the hotel and drove off to Sandra and John's church for the memorial. We got lost, but still got to the church a bit early. As we were walking towards the entrance I saw a couple walking up from the opposite direction. It was Jim and Sue who had been on the Panama yacht charter trip with us. We had met them at Houston airport (I think it's named after a Bush), before we flew together with John and Sandra to Panama City. Billy and I enjoyed Jim and Sue a lot, but had only seen them once since that trip. We had a later planned trip with them and John & Sandra, but Sue had a serious illness (an unidentifiable virus which required that she be placed in an induced-coma state for over a week), and the trip was canceled as a result.
It was serendipidous to run into them. We sat with them through the service and at the reception following. She was able to fill me in on her visits with Sandra towards the end of her life. Visits I was not able to do, and something I lamented to her daughter, Cathy, when we held onto each other at the reception. Cathy told me that her mom wouldn't have wanted me to see her at that point. And also told me that Sandra's passing had been peaceful. Then she invited us to come to the house that evening.
Sandra's service was so beautiful and so heartwarming. I had dreaded it. But, afterwards, I felt so grateful for it. The church holds about 800 people and it was almost full. After we were seated, Sue and I got up and went to greet John. When he hugged me, he said, You lost your friend. She was more than that. People whom I had never seen before told me that they recognized me from the pictures in Sandra & John's house. I know that there was a double photo framed picture on her family wall showing each of us in our birthday tiaras. We knew a lot of people there. Most of both John & Sandra's extended family and quite a few friends whom we had met through the years at Glenbrook, Kona, Ojai, and down at Rancho Valencia. Everything about the service and reception, right down to the Hawaiian food, was so Sandra. It reminded me, and I commented to Sue, about the line in The Big Chill when, at the reception following the memorial service, someone says they throw a really big party for you on the one day that they know you can't come... Everything was perfect. The only thing missing was Sandra.
And that continues to be true. I don't feel her loss as acutely as I expected. But I remember this from when my dad died. At many times during the day, it would feel as if he were still with my mom, up at their home on the hill. I didn't see him every day, so the delusion wasn't difficult. Probably wasn't even a delusion. Just the way that we cope when someone disappears. It takes time for the full realization to set in.
When we visited them in October and the two of us looked at the photos from Kona Village, Sandra looked at me earnestly and said that we were really lucky to have had those times there. I can still hear her unique voice in my head saying that. But the truth is that I was really lucky to have met her there at Kona Village; to have had her in my life for a decade and a half; lucky just to have known her. A lot of vodka martinis were shared during that time, and our proposed toasts were what I always declare when I toast with anyone and everyone: Here's to us.
Here's to you, Sandra, girlfriend & frister extraordinaire. I will miss you forever...
Thank you for reading my blog.
Sandra's service was so beautiful and so heartwarming. I had dreaded it. But, afterwards, I felt so grateful for it. The church holds about 800 people and it was almost full. After we were seated, Sue and I got up and went to greet John. When he hugged me, he said, You lost your friend. She was more than that. People whom I had never seen before told me that they recognized me from the pictures in Sandra & John's house. I know that there was a double photo framed picture on her family wall showing each of us in our birthday tiaras. We knew a lot of people there. Most of both John & Sandra's extended family and quite a few friends whom we had met through the years at Glenbrook, Kona, Ojai, and down at Rancho Valencia. Everything about the service and reception, right down to the Hawaiian food, was so Sandra. It reminded me, and I commented to Sue, about the line in The Big Chill when, at the reception following the memorial service, someone says they throw a really big party for you on the one day that they know you can't come... Everything was perfect. The only thing missing was Sandra.
And that continues to be true. I don't feel her loss as acutely as I expected. But I remember this from when my dad died. At many times during the day, it would feel as if he were still with my mom, up at their home on the hill. I didn't see him every day, so the delusion wasn't difficult. Probably wasn't even a delusion. Just the way that we cope when someone disappears. It takes time for the full realization to set in.
When we visited them in October and the two of us looked at the photos from Kona Village, Sandra looked at me earnestly and said that we were really lucky to have had those times there. I can still hear her unique voice in my head saying that. But the truth is that I was really lucky to have met her there at Kona Village; to have had her in my life for a decade and a half; lucky just to have known her. A lot of vodka martinis were shared during that time, and our proposed toasts were what I always declare when I toast with anyone and everyone: Here's to us.
Here's to you, Sandra, girlfriend & frister extraordinaire. I will miss you forever...
Thank you for reading my blog.
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