Mom

I lost my dad last week.
He was 86 and over the last couple of years was really slowing down.
Being a rough carpenter took its toll on his body over the years.
I did a little of that work and I can vouch that it is physically demanding.
Dad's fingers were perpetually cracked. He used to try various ointments to soothe and soften them, but it was an act of futility. He had some cancer taken off his face and neck. It wasn't that real bad kind. So he learned to keep out of the sun late in life. Dad almost always wore light colored carpenter's overalls when he worked. He called them his "ducks." I can see him in them as I write. He didn't use carbide blades in his saws and he could flip a saw over and sharpen it quickly with the file he kept with him. At home when a neighbor used a saw, he would hear it screaming and remark something about using a dull blade. I've learned to hear the same thing. Dad was a smart man and he could look at a set of blueprint a tell you right away what would work and what wouldn't. His math skills were excellent. If measurements didn't add up, he knew it . And he knew how to fix it and make it right.
At his funeral there was the usual apearance of pictures from his life. I've attended many funerals and it always strikes me how a family tries to summarize a man's life by a few hundred pictures on a felt board. [don't get me wrong, I like looking at the fond memories.]
One picture showed him with his arm in a sling. He was in his late forties, I think. Dad was up a ladder one day at work [sometime after luch break] and it slipped and he rode it down and landed and broke his arm just below the elbow. Dad was no sissy; had a crew of men needing him so he worked the rest of the day, drove home, and then Mom took him to he hospital. I distinctly remember mom crying that afternoon when he got home from work. I was scared, too. His arm was way too big. Even for a man with big arms. And dad had good sized arms.

It's been a week or so since dad died. Mom has been in that strange world only widows occupy. She has been very busy: social security, buying graves, funeral arrangements, bank changes, insurance changes, thank you cards, death notifications to everybody and their brother...
She's had good help, too. Family has supported in every way. She's hosted, entertained, encouraged, and comforted others.
But I stopped by last night and mom looks tired; maybe even haggard. Her hug was longer and closer than I remember it being in the past.
She told her kids that she needs to be alone. I believe her. She's got to grieve. She's got to have the space and time to cry. It's her turn.
She's going to need her friends - soon. But for the time being she needs some down time to process the reality that her friend and lover and partner for 60 years is gone.
Dad did a great job of protecting and supporting and leading.
But he's gone.
I hope I can be there for mom when she needs me.