Back in January, I started a post about some things I've been thinking about ever since my Grandpa's funeral. Thoughts about life and death and all the moments in between...pivoting on the idea that a life of 80 plus years, distilled into the few scant minutes of a "legacy reel" packs more punch than a shot of 80 proof whiskey.
Days got busy, I got distracted and further attempts at plumbing those depths were abandoned.
In March, my Uncle Roy passed away. He was 88 years alive. I did not arrive in time to say good-bye to Roy but I spent a few hours that same day huddled with my family as the downpour of loss washed over us.
Before I returned home, I was asked to help make a slideshow to be played during a celebration of Roy's life. It was being planned for what would have been his 89th birthday. I had just shy of two months to prepare.
I see now that more than the privilege of being asked to help pay tribute, I was given a box of bittersweet morsels (with assorted creme centers) to help me digest this unwelcome transition.
It was the gift of a two-month long good-bye.
In April, I met up with my mom and aunts in Savannah to get pictures for the slideshow. As I bit into the bittersweet square of spending time together -this gift from Roy and his recent departure- the center was rich with the caramelized sugars of River Street pralines and thick with the southern comfort of The Pirates' House cuisine. It went down smoother than a Savannah River ferry and lingers in my memory as comfortably as we did in the Westin lobby.
I had determined from the start that this slideshow was meant to tell a story, to be more than just a loop of pictures playing as backdrop (we had photo discs for that)...I wanted it to be the best of what I could bring. Actually, I wanted it to be better than what I felt I was capable of. I didn't know what that would look like but I started out with a goal of getting as many photos in some sort of chronological order as possible.
I worked in bits and pieces, as my "mom-life" would allow. Oftentimes, I didn't get started until midnight or beyond and my new bedtime became " I don't sleep." Whenever I did go to bed, it was to shut my eyes and pretend I wasn't suddenly bombarded with a dozen thoughts about getting up to tweak that one little slide or making lists of what I would look up when the sun finally...FINALLY...got around to rising.
It would be fair to say that I was consumed by the project but I feel "steeped-deep" is a better analogy, for at the end of this process, I anticipated a cup of caffeinated warmth; "No lemon, no sugar, no cream." And it required lots of coffee & tea.
One morning, three o'clock found me at the table, in the dark, quietly crying over the first salutes of strangers on YouTube.
"Granddaughter Salutes Veteran Grandfather"
"Father/Son First Salute"
I had only needed a two second sample salute for my project, but I was moved with pride and patriotism for these strangers..my fellow citizens. With a salute, I wiped my tears, saved my work and sent me off for a brief nap. The mint waiting on my pillow was bittersweet, with a cherry red center of valor and the hard nougat of courage. I dreamt of World War II and the shores of Iwo Jima, though I had been to neither. I awoke with the taste of gratitude in my heart.
The slideshow's storyline wasn't progressing fast, but my appreciation for the untold chapters of my Uncle's life were... He was a quiet man and he had lived so much life before we even met him... I was learning so much about him and also, about the world in which I live. It was like a history lesson wrapped in one last, long bear hug.
Biting through the bittersweet square of learning revealed a crumbly dry center whose recipe dates back to the Great Depression, highlighted by the rough texture of hard times and the smoky after note of lives rising from the ashes time and again. The lasting flavor was that of deepened admiration.
Soon enough, I was nearing the deadline, and all about me, at random, I could hear my family singing snatches of the song tracks I had been sampling for the slideshow's background. They painted a sad smile on my face, these bittersweet song bites. They turned us into an impromptu, ill-timed and off-tune choir, able to increase a song's gravity not with skill or harmony but merely by much repeating. Their creamy orange centers tasted impossibly of foreshadowing realized and
Often, I had my four year old in my lap while I tried to make small adjustments. She took interest in the story being told- in who the man was and what the pictures revealed about him. One day she whispered to me "I just know that man is still here...somewhere in the world. He is still somewhere." As if he were merely misplaced for a moment, or off on one of his grand adventures as displayed in the many travel photos we were adding.
The next morning, she had brung the last birthday card he made for her and quietly left it beside my workstation. Together we counted the clip-art horses on this square of bittersweet, but only I could taste the complex contrast of Innocence against Inevitability.
