At the shrill little “ding” which was Stéphane’s night pilot texting to let him know he was officially off for the day, I hopped on my mountain biked and zoomed off for a quick ride on the trails before dark descended. Up Camino Uva, across the open space by the baseball fields, through the stables (go slow so you don’t spook the horses), and on to one of my favorite fast, flowy trails – all the way to the end of Kwage Mesa. I was able to catch the sun setting on the Sangre de Cristos at the overlook: oranges, purples and greens mixing with the growing shadows.
My heart was heavy this evening and my thoughts were filled with my Aunt Sheryl who was in the hospital. My childhood memories of her include a boisterous, lively, short, spiky-haired woman and Randy (“Randawg”), her husband – a quiet, mellow, craft beer-loving hippie type. They lived on the west side of the state so we didn’t see them or their two daughters, my cousins Genna and April, all that often. My phone rang showing “Home” calling – perhaps mom has some news to share about Aunt Sheryl. But the battery on the phone died before I could answer so my questions had to be stowed away for the ride home.
That evening as I rode home, I said a prayer for Aunt Sheryl and Randy and Genna and April. It made me sad that I couldn’t even remember the names of Genna’s children. I had never met them. It was getting dark as I passed the baseball fields. Every ten feet or so, the sidewalk was lit up by small concrete lanterns. It brought up a memory of when we first moved to Los Alamos and were looking for a home. We’d driven up onto North Mesa and by the house that would eventually be ours; it was evening, the little concrete lanterns shone cheerily and I thought, “I want to live here”.
And now we are leaving our small mountain community for the next adventure.
Hello and goodbye, little concrete lanterns.
That was yesterday evening.
This afternoon, “Home” lights up on my cell phone and I think I already know what I’m going to hear. It’s mom and she tells me Aunt Sheryl passed away just an hour ago. Just an hour ago Hugo and I were playing with his stuffed animals on his “big boy bed”. Just an hour ago Stéphane was out on a flight – his last in Los Alamos. Just an hour ago Dan and Jess were at the gym. So much can change in so short a time.
My heart hurts for Randy, Genna, and April. It hurts for Aunt Sheryl’s siblings: my dad, Uncle Mike, Aunt Sharon, and Aunt Shelley.
Siblings can be a mixed bag. Maybe you grow up together but you grow apart as adults. Maybe you never liked each other as children and the sentiment continues on through life. I don’t know the relationship Aunt Sheryl had with her siblings but I know the relationship I have with mine. I would do anything for Dan or Pete. Not even a question.
So as we pack boxes and make plans for our move to Virginia, I am happy and hopeful and excited about the time that we will get to spend with my brother Dan and with Jess. We’re going to grill meats and swim and laugh and play cards and workout; I’m going to make Dan babysit Hugo and teach him the rules of football. We’re going to work hard, study hard (Stéphane), play hard (Hugo), and adventure all around Virginia. It’s a new backyard and we’ve got some fun playmates to explore with.
So here’s to siblings: may you have them and may you love them. Give yours a call tonight, just ’cause.