Day One
JC, me and the kids start driving at exactly 8am to fly to North Carolina. Our flights are smooth, our layover seamless. We are eating a late dinner with my parents that night, in the warm and humid July night.
Day Two
After a leisurely breakfast, which includes collecting eggs from my mom's chickens, we spend a few hours at the pool at Sister's townhouse. It is really really nice to be in water again, especially warm water. I pick up Ella from her camp at dinner, and we all go back to my parents' house to watch the super lame opening ceremonies of the London Olympics.
Day Three
JC's parents come to my parents' house, meeting for the first time. It is apparent that we all like each other. The kids seem thrilled to have us all together, excited to start driving to the beach. I go down with Leigh and Ella, JC and the kids with his parents, and my folks in their car. By 3pm we are in the water, which seems to hover somewhere around 80 degrees. For real. John said it was the warmest water he has ever felt. We eat dinner together, happy to be starting our beach week with ribs, hush puppies, pulled pork sandwiches and cole slaw.
Day Four
Beach day, all day long. Mary lolls about in the shallows at low tide and thanks me for taking her back to her childhood, we body surf, keep the sunscreen slathered, nap, read, eat and continue to enjoy our time together, two families starting the merge.
Day Five
We decide to go to the Fort Fisher Aquarium, take the ferry over from Southport, and spend the stormy and cloudy morning looking at fishes, jellyfish, alligators, sharks, starfish, all sorts of swimmy things. By the time we are back at the beach house, the skies are lifting, we eat enough to get back in the water, and body surf in the rough waves. John had decided today to master bodysurfing, so I went back out to give him some pointers, then come in when I get too tired. JC goes out to swim with him, and quickly realizes John is tired and can't get back to the beach without help. Sister and I swim out, we fight waves and current and are unable to get him to shore quickly enough. John dies before we are back on the beach. CPR given by my mom and Sister are too late and not enough. I wake up Mary from her nap, the kids stay in the beach house, and everything starts looking like a movie. At the emergency room big decisions are made in a short period of time: cremation? burial? funeral home? organ doner? Sisters are called, we drive home and tell the kids. Sleep is moderately aided by xanax, every time I start to relax my body tenses up with visual memories of the Event in the water.
Day Six
We stumble around like zombies, food has become unappealing, yet we get back on the beach, all get back in the water. JC picks up Amy from the airport at noon, Mary is on the phone making a million calls to friends and relatives. JC, Sister and I start to verbally process the Event, telling and re-telling, solidifying the facts. We are traumatized. Sister and I make a high fish and shrimp dinner and we all eat together. It is as good as it can be. I crash at the end, slip into a dazed shock and find myself sitting on the edge of our bed, ready for sleep but am unconvinced it is possible. Again, xanax helps but only slightly. It enables me to say I got some sleep. JC picks up Kateri and her daughter Sonia from the airport at midnight.
Day Seven
We awaken to a heavy downpour, thunder and lightning. The Sparacinos mobilize and get the us and the kids out of the house, to tour the Battleship in Wilmington so the Carmolas can have a family powwow at the beach house. We return at 2:30, the sun comes out and we spill out onto the beach, moving slowly, but enjoying the sun, and reluctantly, the water. It is spooky and we are spooked. Kids are kept close to shore and adults are nervous in the waves. The funeral is set for Tuesday, I call my boss to tell her our plans have changed. It is extremely difficult to verbalize what has happened. We buy one-way tickets from Wilmington to Vermont and decide to stay until Saturday and finish out our beach week.
Day Eight
Mary, Amy, Kateri and Sonia fly home to Vermont. Me, JC and kids, Sister and Ella and my parents stay, moving through our day slowly, processing, processing, processing. The weather is glorious, the ocean is quieting, the water is warm. The lighthouse tour that John set up is utilized by JC, Sister, Dad, Ella and Francis. I slump on the beach, unbelievably depleted, find myself staring off into space with no thoughts in my head.
Day Nine
Sister and I mobilize to a mall in Wilmington and buy funeral clothes for myself and JC. We are back on the beach before noon. I have lost all trust in the ocean. Currents that felt strong now feel treacherous. Waves that were playful now feel dangerous. But we stay in, going under, coming up, going under, coming up, then warm ourselves in the sun. Food seems alien and immensely unappealing. We march on through our day. JC and I have a talk on the beach after our last swim and I tell him I think what we did was heroic. He tells me that what we have all done, over the course of the week, has been heroic.
Day Ten
Sister drops JC, me and the kids off at the airport for a 6am flight, I sleep on both flights and we are at the cabin by early afternoon. We make a list of things we need stop in to see Mary and see some family at her house. We being the Vermont segment of retelling the story of the Event. It is getting easier to tell. We pick up a pizza along with our supplies, and collapse into bed before dark.
Day Eleven
JC heads to Amy's house to select photos for the visitation while the kids go to a pool with Amy's kids and husband. I am given Option A, of staying at Amy's house while they pull photos, or B, going to the pool. I choose Option C, and get dropped off at the Burlington Airport when the Sparacinos arrive. We go to the waterfront in Burlington, get some lunch and a maple creme, I show them the cabin and barn, and fall into a read-slumber-read-slumber phase for the remainder of the afternoon. It is nothing short of heavenly. Silence and stillness. We have dinner at the only restaurant open in St. Albans on Sunday evening, the Eastern Dragon. My fortune reads: True bravery is without witness.
Day Twelve
The Sparacinos drive to Maline, NY to visit the homesite of Farmer Boy, Laura Ingalls Wilder's husband. We spend a quiet morning with the kids, set up Walter's tent near the cabin, get JC dressed for the visitation, and go to Mary's house. While the family is away, I hang with the kids at the neighbor's pool, get the clothes from Sister's motel room that her friend has gathered for the kids, iron them and return to Mary's when they have a break between visitations. The kids stay with cousins and I go with JC to meet his family, all John's siblings and their families and kids, all Mary's siblings and their families and kids. The line of people is tremendous, the outpouring substantial. The Sparacinos are the first in line and I am proud to introduce them to my new family, the Carmolas and the Bradys.
Day Thirteen
The funeral is at 11am. The weather is perfect, clear and warm and shiny. Walter makes it from Telluride, we get cleaned up and join the family.
The service is one hour, and has something to offer everyone. It is an honor to sit with the Carmolas in the front rows. Francis cries when Father Michael talks about John, as does everyone a little. He was a great man. We move across the street, eat, visit, meet, depart and we relocate to sunny Lake Champlain, reviving our beach tans, feeling hung over with fatigue. We mobilize to legendary Warner's for dinner at picnic tables, basking in the soft evening, two families no longer merging, but merged.
We say our goodbyes, the Sparacinos are flying out the next morning, and I bonk when we get back to the cabin. Now it feels like it is all over, the families have parted.
Day Fourteen
Family friends have offered us the use of their lake spot, and I lounge on the dock while JC and Rose, Walt and Francis kayak around Fairfield Pond. It is quiet and calm and lovely. We drop Walt off at the airport after he says goodbye to Mary, and we take the most beautiful drive ever to Kateri's house in Salisbury. More lake time (who knew Vermonters spent so much time in the water?), then JC and I go back to the cabin alone, the kids stay for an overnight with their cousins, we eat leftover moo shu pork and cold pizza and I couldn't be happier. I needed a break from the kids and alone time with my husband.
Day Fifteen
JC and I return to Fairfield Pond, kayak the perimeter, which takes us a couple of hours. We are accompanied by loons, mourning doves, a lone osprey, licorice-scented water lilies, and flat calm waters. The kids decide to stay another night, we ship maple syrup home to the Sparacinos and Sister's friend who got us the kids' clothes, then take another scenic drive, this one up to Jay Peak where JC learned to ski. Dinner at Warner's again, back to the cabin. Sleep has become intermittent and somewhat elusive. I am waking up disappointed more often than not.
Day Sixteen
Mary wants us all to meet with her financial advisor, which we do, then we drive on to Amy's house in Richmond. The kids are there and continue to play with their cousins all day, while we relax around the house, just spending time with Amy and Paul. I feel very comfortable at her house and with her. It is a perfect last day. Early dinner, drive back to St. Albans, goodbyes to Mary. Sleep. Kind of.
Day Seventeen
The alarm on JC's phone awakens us at 3:40am. We stumble into the car under a shiny moon. On the way to the airport JC points and says "Falling star." It was so big I thought it was a glowy white barn owl flying near the car. We get to our house in Telluride after 14 hours and everything seems foreign, familiar yet odd. Our across-the-street friends bring us homemade strawberry preserves and we talk for a bit. I wake up in the night not knowing where I am and find it extremely disturbing. I feel as though someone has woken me up sleepwalking.
Since we have been home, we have been tired. Food isn't all that interesting this week, and I am still disappointed with the night's sleep. Work is work, nice to think about other things and be with my work friends. The weather is clearing and drying out this weekend and I expect we will be on some long beautiful hikes and peaks, getting our mountain lungs and legs back again. I have periods of feeling kind of normal and periods of feeling slightly nauseous and frightened and disoriented. I expect those times will start to dwindle.
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