Yesterday was a good day. A busy day. Until the final hour.
I arose in the morning and, as I do every Saturday, posted Saturday Morning Garden Blogging. I had planned ahead and written the entry the night before -- something I don't always manage to do. But I knew I had a lot to accomplish before 4:00 when guests would begin to arrive for the latest Garden Blogging Garden Party and Meeting of the Colorado Chocolate Fountain Caucus.
Newly-deposited boy gommies needed wiped from surfaces. The garden needed a last picking up and a bit of weeding to look its best. Ice needed purchasing, and soda deposited in the chests to cool. Another batch of lemon custard ice cream would take 6 hours or so to accomplish, between cooking and cooling the custard, processing in the ice cream maker, and final hardening in the deep freeze. The flank steak and pork loin had to be deposited in marinade.
Of course there were glitches along the way -- aren't there always? For whatever reason the Mister must -- absolutely must -- find a load of laundry to do (I had done all the laundry the day before) -- so the water pressure dropped as I tried to take an early afternoon shower.
And we'd neglected to get a newly-purchased hammock chair installed on the front porch last weekend -- it really needed to be put in place.
The container of ice tea had a slow leak.
I'd forgotten to move the raspberry cheesecake ice cream from the deep freeze to the fridge to soften, so it was hard as rock (a few minutes in the microwave at 10% power fixed that).
And sprinkles of rain -- which the weatherman on Channel 9 insisted would largely be confined to the west and south of us -- started up right as the first guests arrived, and continued on through the evening.
But all in all, it was a great day: lots of good food; lots of good talk; lots of good people. The chores were all done in a timely manner (well, except I forgot to set out the plastic tableware).
As we chatted with the last remaining guests and picked at a last few bites of incredible food, the phone rang.
It was my nephew, calling from Oregon to tell me that his cousin, my brother's eldest child and only son, had committed suicide at age 27, leaving behind his young wife and baby daughter. And now my brother and his wife have entered the land of the bereaved.
I did not know my nephew well; my family is far flung and we are not close. He grew up far away from me. I saw him a few times as a baby, and in young adulthood at my mother's funeral back in 2003. I knew he struggled with the "family malady" -- bi-polar disorder -- and had dropped out of college. But like most of my family, he had a good brain and smart hands, and had found skilled employment working on a sewage processing project on the Oregon coast.
I really hate having to take my own advice, especially in such a sad circumstance. But I also knew it was important to call this morning, and I spoke to my sister-in-law for some time. She told me that, like many with bi-polar disorder, my nephew didn't like the medications which would smooth out the cycles between mania and depression. He told his parents life felt flat and stale when he was taking medication; so he stopped taking it. He was doing well, or so they thought. They had last spoken with him on Friday, and he spoke with joy of watching his baby daughter play in the garden with a litter of puppies and beginning to master the art of speech.
And the next day he hung himself.
My sister-in-law told me, with a baffled air of wonderment, how strange it seemed that her husband, my brother, has a job interview tomorrow (he's a high-school shop teacher whose position was eliminated) -- that the world goes on while they are wrapped in a bubble of such pain. How can this be?
She was grateful to speak with me; one of the first things she said was "I know you understand". And I do... and don't. I just told her there really is no comfort at this point; that time wouldn't heal all, but would eventually ease the ache if we let it. That rage -- at herself, her husband, her son -- would likely be part of what she would go through, but to try and hang on to the idea that although her son hit a patch of despair which he couldn't quite surmount, he also had joy in his life and was a good man.
My sister-in-law is a good Christian woman, an example of the best that Christian teachings can bring to a person. I know that her faith will be a comfort to her and, through that support, she can be a greater comfort to my brother, who doesn't share her beliefs; to her daughter-in-law and to her granddaughter.
And as for me, my heart is so sore for my brother, and his wife, whom I love dearly. I loved their son as an extension of my love for them.
Any day can hold a mix of annoyances and treasures. Hold on to the treasures. Hug your children, spouse, partner, parents and anyone else you care for. Tell them you love them. Because you never know if you'll have another chance.