Fly Him Away

Last Thursday, family and friends gathered to wish Cary farewell and good luck at boot camp and nab some BBQ and a dip in the jacuzzi. But it ended up just being Cary and I and the barbecue hosts, his Uncle Brett and Brett's girlfriend Lena, soaking away our sadness in bubbles that eventually got too hot--no matter how much you think that won't happen when you get in.


And that's how it feels now, Cary gone, me thinking I'll never get used to it, and I'm already feeling routine seep in. Butters wants to follow me into the bathroom. There's people who want to hang out even though Cary isn't around. There's more space in the medicine cabinet. The gym and cleaning and work and blogging all fill up the space with pleasant distraction.

But of course I'll never be fully used to it. That's just how husbands and wives are in absence, when the heart just grows bigger in anticipation. No matter how much I do my own thing, it'll still feel like a piece is missing without him to share those things with regularly. A little piece. Don't get too big in the head, Care.

On Friday, we spent the day together, enjoying the company, getting the last batch of stuff done. We returned yard equipment he'd borrowed. Butters got dehydrated in the Loma Linda hills again. We staved off food for the sake of errands like oh, filing taxes that took a forest's worth of paperwork. But we put a cherry on top of the day with a big dinner and good company. One pizookie and two crazy waiters later, we were home, busily and silently counting down the hours 'til it was bon voyage.

I didn't want to cry. But it came at the pinnacle of the goodbye, the final hug and kiss, pulled over, bag on the sidewalk, a few glances from passersby. Wearing his favorite jeans and favorite shirt on me, wearing my glasses so I would be even more deterred from crying, it just didn't work to make the morning light and dry.

Driving home, as the stormy weekend forecast rolled in, I wished I would have brought Butters along for someone to chat with on the ride home about the crapiness of the situation. But I wouldn't want any other situation. We could both count on that.

(Cary said this guy's umbrella-ella hit every single pole in the line at the airport.)

I couldn't go back to sleep so I freshened up and worked a bit until my phone buzzed...

Christy saved the day Saturday as I knew she would. A church stint, a couple happy conversations, and Mexican with her and a bud was a great start to the toughest day in the countdown. Then it was off to Temecula for a concert with Jamie (Christy's fiance and Jamie's best friend) and Holly (one of the funniest girls I know, clever and charmingly blunt and always providing a quote or two for me to report back to Cary). The concert was religious rock and in a mall parking garage. Religious and parking garage made me wary, but it was above and beyond a worth it excursion. I think I was with three of the most entertaining people in the IE. And they cared enough to invite me, have me, and cheer me up more than they knew. Then Holly placed a cherry on top of this day with chocolate covered strawberries and a DVD on her parents' beautifully enormous television. Mine is the size of a freezer.

This is the pic he sent me of the U.S.S. Forrestal in Rhode Island.

Brunch with San Diego fam below.