Archive for December, 2010

30
Dec

An Unexpected Homecoming

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

On the Monday before Christmas we received a phone call from our daughter Michelle, who has been living in San Antonio with her boyfriend and his mother for almost a year. My wife talked with her for a while, as they usually do, and came to me after she hung up the phone.

“She said he’s broken up with her, and she wanted to know if she could move back home,” my wife said.

“That was sudden,” I replied. “When was she planning to come up here?”

“They want her out of the apartment before Christmas,” she said. “And with everything she’s got down there, it’ll take the truck to move it all here.”

“The truck” referred to my 14-year-old Ford F-250 diesel pickup with just over 200,000 miles on it. That is a lot of miles, but in the diesel world it represents about half of the engine’s useful life; it is not uncommon for these trucks to run up to half a million miles before they finally bite the dust. It is not pretty to look at, but I did not buy it for its looks; it was that engine that attracted me to it in the first place.

“That’s about a six hour drive each way. Are you up to riding in the truck that long?” I asked. San Antonio is approximately 350 miles from our home.

“I guess I’ll have to be,” was the answer.

“All right, find out when she will be packed and we’ll go from there. It’s been a long time since I filled up both of the truck’s fuel tanks.”

A couple of phone calls later, we had most of the arrangements worked out. She would be ready to go on Thursday the 23rd. I came up with an aggressive game plan: we would get up at 4am and be out the door by 6, arrive in San Antonio around lunchtime, load her stuff, eat lunch, and drive home, hopefully getting back in time for a late dinner.

The next two days were spent hurriedly finishing up our Christmas shopping. Fortunately, we had already done all of our shopping for Michelle, and had even shipped her presents to her the Friday before. She had been told not to open the shipping box until Christmas Day; now, in an ironic twist, the box would be coming back to our house to be opened.

Thursday, 4am. My wife and I struggled to get out of bed, drag ourselves into the shower, get dressed, and grab a bite to eat before heading out the door. A stop at a gas station to top off the tanks, and we were on our way. The drive down was somewhat uneventful; the most excitement came while we were going through Austin, the state capitol. The traffic there reminded me very much of downtown Atlanta when we used to live in Georgia: everyone running flat out, dodging and weaving their way like they were in a NASCAR race. The one benefit from that was it did not take us very long to drive through the city.

We finally arrived in San Antonio, pretty close to the time I had envisioned. Following the directions we had mapped out the day before, we found our way to the street where the apartment complex was located, and with Michelle helping on the other end of my cell phone we made it to the entrance gates. We pulled up in front of the apartment building and saw our daughter, standing alone. After a quick greeting and hugs all around, we went inside the apartment. I met her now ex-boyfriend and his mother for the first (and probably only) time, and much to my relief everyone was quite civil about the situation. They helped with loading her things into the truck, then after a round of goodbyes we left.

After stopping for lunch, we got back out on the highway and retraced our route to go home. Unfortunately, the trip back was more eventful than the trip out. There were traffic jams in two different cities, each taking an hour or so to get through; and, the truck was also losing antifreeze somehow, taking almost two extra gallons of it to get home (I learned later the heater core had a split in it). Thanks to the delays, it was almost 9pm when we finally arrived at the house. We unloaded Michelle’s things and piled them into her bedroom, fixed ourselves something to eat, then sat down to relax. The cost for spending 15 hours on the road? Aside from frazzled nerves all around, it took 35 gallons of fuel, two gallons of antifreeze, lunch and snacks.

But, our daughter was back in our home, safe and sound. We do not know how long she will be staying with us; it could be weeks, months, or even longer. One thing I do know: she has been missed by all of us.

Welcome home, Michelle.

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11
Dec

Task Completed

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

Every day since Stephen died, I have kept myself focused on making sure that everything regarding his final arrangements has been taken care of. Now, almost six months since his death, the last of those arrangements has been completed – installing the headstone for his grave. We had spent several weeks determining what we wanted to put on it, and finally placed the order with the monument company in the latter part of August. We had received word before Thanksgiving that the stone had been completed and was awaiting installation, and on Friday morning we learned that it was in place. We went by the cemetery that afternoon for our first visit.

Steve had truly loved his music and playing in the school band; the day of the accident, he was hosting a pizza party for his fellow trumpet players. We wanted to somehow incorporate that passion of his into the headstone, and I came up with the idea of having a trumpet with musical notes coming out of it to represent his playing. We went back and forth with the monument company on the details, with me finally locating some line art of a realistic-looking trumpet and asking them to match it as closely as possible. Their artists came back with a design that we thought was appropriate, and we signed off on the order.

When we walked up to the stone for the first time, we were both amazed and extremely pleased with what we saw. The monument company had never before depicted a trumpet with such detail, but they stepped up to the challenge and the result was absolutely beautiful, far exceeding my expectations.

We had included a vase next to the stone so that we (and other visitors) could place flowers at the grave and not have them falling over or easily blowing away. It came in handy, for we had brought with us a flower arrangement my mother had purchased while we were visiting her last month for Thanksgiving. That arrangement became the first flowers to go in the vase.

With the flowers placed, we retrieved the temporary marker that had been placed at the grave by the funeral home and turned to leave.

We returned home, and as I sat in my office downloading from my camera the pictures I had just taken I began to realize that there was nothing left to be done for Steve. It was all finished – the huge task that began almost six months ago had finally been completed. I wrote in my last entry about how I was unsure of the way in which I would react when this time finally arrived. Now it is here, and I am more uncertain than ever.

I can, however, start to see a few early signs. One of my favorite musical groups to listen to around Christmastime is Mannheim Steamroller (for those who do not know them, they are the folks who perform the “funky-sounding” versions of traditional Christmas music like the Halleluiah Chorus, Winter Wonderland, and Deck The Halls). The leader of the group, Chip Davis, wrote a Christmas carol in 1988 called “Traditions Of Christmas” (on the album “A Fresh Aire Christmas”). From the first time I heard it, that piece of music has always held a special place in my heart, but I have never really understood why. On Friday evening I listened to it for the first time this season, and a wave of emotion swept through me that I had not felt since the accident. There is something in the tune that strikes a chord deep inside me, one that obviously has strong ties to my feelings and memories of Steve. It is nowhere close to being an answer to my fears, but it does give me a direction to start looking.

And so I continue to move forward…step by step, one day at a time.

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3
Dec

It May Look Like Christmas, But It Sure Doesn’t Feel Like It

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

We can find it everywhere – the bright Christmas lights, ornately decorated Christmas trees, radio stations playing Christmas music, and of course the Christmas sales on gift items we would not pay any attention to buying the other 11 months of the year. The countdown began after Thanksgiving, leading up to a day that is filled with great joy and excitement.

Like most people, I usually look forward to the Christmas season each year: spending time with family, exchanging gifts and good cheer, sharing old memories and making new ones, and reflecting on the year that has nearly passed. This Christmas, however, will be very different. In spite of my best efforts, I know the good cheer will be more somber, the memories bittersweet, and the reflections more contemplative. I suppose this is to be somewhat expected; the memories of Stephen’s accident are still very fresh in my mind and still weigh heavily on my heart. I doubt there has been a waking hour in the past six months when I have not thought about my son.

There are some friends of mine who seem simply amazed that I can function at all, and cannot imagine themselves being as “strong” as I have been in this situation. If the truth be told, I do not look at myself as a strong person; I may appear calm, cool, and collected on the outside, but if you could look into my heart and mind you would find I am a total wreck. My wife has commented that she has not seen me crying openly for our son, as she has been doing; what she does not understand is that on the inside I have not stopped crying since the day he died.

What is it that keeps me going forward? I believe it has been because of the need for “someone” to make sure that all of the things that needed to be done on Steve’s behalf were actually done. From making sure all of the funeral arrangements and details were covered, to handling all of the paperwork, and to being the “voice” of the family, I have focused on each task and given it my utmost attention and effort.

The last of those tasks is soon to be completed – we have received word that the monument for Stephen’s grave is finally finished and will be installed sometime within the next few days. What will happen to me after that is done? Will I still be “strong” or will I collapse into a blob of uncontrollable emotion? Or something in between? I do not know for sure, but I will find out soon enough.

In the meantime, the Christmas countdown continues…

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