Ghost in the Driveway

We moved from California 15 years ago, long enough that we no longer think of travelling there as going home. But travel there we do, usually twice a year for each of those 15 years. It's always a delicate dance balancing the two sides of our family, but due to my wife's parents location to LAX, we always stay there the day before we leave. Every time we leave, even if that means leaving the house at 10:00 pm to catch a red-eye, or leaving at 4:00 am for an early flight, my mother-in-law would always walk us out the door and wave to us from the driveway. On some of those early departures she would tell us that she would say goodbye the night before because we were leaving too early for her to get out of bed. But every time, even if she was in a housecoat and slippers, she would wave to us from the driveway.

But last week we said our goodbyes to her and put her to rest beside her loving husband of 52 years. The vigil, funeral, and graveside ceremonies were difficult but as family and friends gathered at the house for food and recitations of fond memories, it seemed that the worst was past. Having done this before with my father-in-law and my own grandparents, I knew that grief comes in waves that rarely end at the graveside, but I wasn't expecting such a big one when we left the house yesterday for that 6:30 am flight.

There was plenty of rushing around the night before and even the morning of as we tried to get out of the house. We got the kids all loaded up and I pulled the rental care out of the drive and waited for my wife to close the gate. I looked up and expected Nadine to be there waving goodbye, but she wasn't there. I realized that she never will be again. The grief hit me new and hard. Much of the grief I had felt earlier in the week had been empathy with my wife and children. This wave of grief was for me and it hurt - still hurts.

Goodbye, Nadine.