Love as a verb….

Ky and I are downsizing and moving.  Of course, downsizing means letting “things” go, and we’ve been doing a lot of that the past month since our house sold.

Bill’s table is one of the “things” we can’t take with us.  We had moments where we considered using it for our dining room table with the top flipped, and then turning it over once a week for poker.  Those moments faded though when we took a second look at our apartment – definitely no spot for our sprawling table.

The thing about a poker table and eight chairs is that the market is not large and the price is not small.  So, we settled into the approach that has worked for us in the past; take no action and wait for a miracle.  We started packing, using the table as a spot to sort things.

When Pete texted us that he wanted to surprise Roo and buy her Bill’s table we were both relieved and anxious.  What if Roo didn’t want it?  We knew she loved the game, the league, the comradery; but would she want the table?  Pete did not seem plagued by any of those questions; he was sure.  He reminded us multiple times that this was a surprise and to please keep it on the down low. 

The next text asked us to reach out to our poker buddies and see if they could come for a game on the night he intended to surprise her with the gift.  It was all coming together.  The experience of witnessing Pete “love” Roo in this active way was touching.  We pushed aside our moments of anxiety about whether she would be happy, or annoyed.

The final text came last week; advising us that he would come Thursday morning at 8:30 a.m. to pick up the gift.  Roo was working both Thursday and Friday; his plan was to set up the table and pray she didn’t go to the basement until we arrived Friday night at 7.  We’ve since found out Michael met him and helped carry everything to the truck.  When he arrived home however, he was on his own.  He brought the eight chairs in, the base, and then, hulk that he is, the table top.  Flipping the top to change from poker table to regular table takes two of us, that’s how heavy it is, and yet Pete carried it through the house and down the basement stairs by himself.  Yep – love is a verb.

He had prepped the space by installing a new light and relocating the entertainment centre.  It was perfect.  It was perfect for poker; a game Pete doesn’t play.  This was all about Roo; it’s not something they enjoy together.  Pete’s enjoyment comes from knowing Roo loves the game, the league, the comradery.

The night arrived and we made our way to Roo and Pete’s with the poker crew in tow.  As we knocked on the back door we could hear Pete chatting.  Upon entering the kitchen we saw Roo in the living room sitting on the floor.  Kylie had been working with her to sort Lego to take on her trip to Nicaragua.  Roo’s face was confused and as she climbed to her feet we could see she was limping.  “What happened?”, we inquired.  “Oh, I fell at work.” She dismissed our concern and wanted to know what was going on?  As we exchanged hugs we told her we were just out for a drive.  She was disoriented.

Pete took her by the arm and gently prodded her to follow him downstairs.  “Why?” she asked.  “Just come on.” He answered.  We all followed the two of them to the basement where Pete left Roo at the bottom of the stairs and made his way across the room.  Still confused and disoriented (more than usual), Roo flipped on the lights and looked across the room to Pete. 

She gasped, covered her face with her hands and began to weep.  A new fan/light was installed in her basement.  It was hanging above Bill’s table.  What the fuck??

Limping toward Pete she was overcome.  She leaned into him and his arms encircled her, steadying her, reassuring her; loving her.

Pete was right.  He was right that Roo loved the table.  He was right that she wanted the table.  He said nothing; he held her.  He was right – love is a verb.

Shuffle up and deal.

Sisters tape.....

Relaxing this morning, I rewind the tape of our holiday in England.  I am watching it muted so that I have only my own subtitles; born of my feelings on the trip.

Arriving at the airport in Norwich I was anxious for my first glimpse of Linda.  We grabbed our bags quickly and scanned the arrivals hall.  I’m not sure why, but when I spotted her I was taken by how vulnerable she looked.  We each embraced her as Alex arrived with the car.  Soon we three sisters collapsed with laughter as we attempted to buckle up in the back.

Laughter followed us throughout our time in England.  We laughed at ourselves, each other, and Gogglebox.  The TV provided a welcome and frequent break from the intensity of the emotional responses I was experiencing.  I found myself often revisiting the feeling of Linda’s vulnerability throughout the eleven days.  Looking at the tape now, I recognize the longing for connection and even in the midst of our time together, the knowing that it was coming to an end and we were leaving her behind.

Watching us in the backyard, sipping tea in the sun, I remember the feelings of peace and gratitude I had.  Linda’s visit with me last summer was so critical to this trip.  The connection with her then, allowed me to relax into our communion.  I was aware of our aging and the gift of our time together.  I appreciated the beauty of the garden and the birds.  I loved sharing the experience with Ky.  I was thankful that Linda and Alex were relaxed with us.

Linda developed a chest infection during our visit and I wonder now if that’s where my awareness of her vulnerability was rooted.  Ky commented frequently on our genetic similarities; such as not giving into feeling unwell.  In spite of the infection Linda went about hosting.  She tidied, washed, cooked, and “organized” like nobody’s business! 

My tape has now shifted to Carol.  I try to imagine her feelings, but I’m not able to land on anything specific.  I’m sure she was glad to be there and I know she too appreciate our hosts, but I’m not clear on her emotional state.  There were a couple of times when we were reminiscing about our childhood trauma and I had the sense Carol preferred not to engage.  I was surprised when she shared that mom and dad had taken her and Bev on a trip to Chicago.  This image is in such conflict to anything I remember. 

For my part, I felt defensive of Linda and angry that horrible things had happened to her.  I felt regret that I had no impact on her experience as a child; being 10 years her junior.  I felt helpless to have any impact in the moment now.  I found myself wondering what it must be like for Carol.  If she had a bond with dad and loved him, how would that impact her response vs. mine; I never bonded with him and I never loved him.  As I sit now with a still shot of that exchange at the table in Bickling Estate, I feel our tension as three sisters attempt to reconcile conflicting experiences.

I hit play again, and see Carol napping, reading, laughing, helping and soaking up all the sights and sounds of England.  I see her appreciating the history, the buildings, the people and Linda and Alex.  I remember her frequent comments that Glenn would love this or that; I had the sense she would have loved to share the experience with him.  I saw her face light up when one of her brood would text.  I feel her sense of fun playing cards and I smile now remembering Ky calling her Lenore when we thought she was scamming us.  As the tape rolls, her comments; do you know what and I cannot believe it are often visible on her lips.   I have a soft spot for Carol, and she tugs at my heart always.

As I watch us walk into the Norwich airport after saying good bye, I shed a tear.  I miss Linda.  I miss Carol too. 

I contemplate what I will do about that.