Yesterday I was driving home and the emotions of the week were swirling in my head. Nothing major, just little things that Cindy and I enjoyed discussing. It would be, "I want to tell you about this," then we'd say the story and then the other would ask, "okay, and how are you doing with that?" or "how did you feel about it?" Our own private therapy session that we both relished and saved up for when we had time to dig in. Those talks were often when she was in her office and I was driving home from work on Friday afternoons. That's when the tears still come, driving home on Friday afternoons.
My favorite times were when one of us really needed the talk, some small crisis would arise and the other wouldn't really have time to talk about ourselves. Those were the times that our connection kicked into high gear. The love and support was so deeply felt, the vulnerability of sharing simply melded our hearts. How rare is intimacy such as this! When it was my turn to have a melt-down and our time would run out, I'd apologize for hogging up all the conversation and she'd say, "no, I'm okay, I'm just glad I could talk you through this." And it was mutual when she needed the time. I always felt so honored to be her sounding board and confidante.
I'm looking forward to seeing Bruce's and her friends and family soon, but I guess it does remind me that I'm missing a major component in my life. "We have to lose people we love in life, how else would we know how important they are to us?" It was in a movie not worth watching, other than for that quote. It's true I guess, especially for people like me who learn the hard way. But I'm grateful to learn.
This was sent from Lore Schafer:
ReplyDeleteMissing................ oh how I now hate that word. However, hate may be a little strong. I have been trying to post here, but have trouble with my google account. I don't know why.
We are in the midst of our total kitchen renovation. Everything is out of there. Temporary kitchen is set up on the diningroom table, on the sideboard, washing dishes area in the bathroom. It would have driven my ever fastidious and fussy daughter right around the bend. Somehow, I am having fun in all this mess, still being able to put on a decent meal while "making do". Perhaps it is a sign to me that we can really do without all this stuff and modern conveniences.
The sad part of this is that this should have been happening last year. Contractor had been decided upon, details were not ready, and then Nov. 29th happened. There was no time, nor did we feel like doing anything so major when our whole world had collapsed around us.
Cindy and I had many, many conversations regarding kitchens. She had a whole binder of ideas and dreams. I go less structured, and sort of fly by the seat of my pants. She was so thrilled that I was going to be able to work in a brand new space, after the old one of 34 years. Sometimes, for a fleeting moment, I have felt almost that I abandoned an old friend with ripping it all apart. We had such great memories of working together in our kitchens. Ours, hers in California and on Saturna. She started cooking when she was barely 10 years old. Pizza was one of her very early specialties, and remained so. She was making pizza, including her own home-made dough when she needed a boost to be able to knead it on the kitchen counter.
When she entered grade 7, she was sooooo excited that they would have cooking classes. After the first class I asked her “What did you make?” “Pizza, Mom it was disgusting................. We used Wonderbread, smeared some ketchup on it, used some disgusting sliced orange cheese, and cut up wieners!” Cooking classes just were not her favourite part of the school's curriculum after such a start!
The last time she was here, she and I made 4 different pizzas for my mom's 94th. birthday. Pizza used to be Oma's favourite food, so for her birthday, we made pizzas for the party. Unfortunately, Oma couldn't eat it any more, We have some fabulous pictures of Cindy wearing one of my "Schaferhofbb" aprons, hands full of flour, and pizza items all over the kitchen!
I had called her to say come to Oma's birthday, who knows if you will be able to see her another year.