Adventure 456: The Story of George, Boats, and Grief, 33

March 9, 2018

Real time found George doing well, although he was a bit single minded and just a tad confused. Vina told him that Friday was "Sports" day at Harvard Park, which means if residents wear a clothing item with some reference to sports, they receive "Harvard Bucks" (Monopoly Money). Periodically, they have an auction where they spend these 'bucks" on stuff. It's a good way to keep people interested, and George and Vina are avid buck collectors. Anyway, George thought she meant right then, so when Judy and I arrived for dinner, George was sorting through his closet trying to find something with a sports logo. He finally found a worn out T-shirt that said, "I hate golf; I hate golf; Nice shot; I love golf." But all was good. We ate dinner, played dominoes, and generally enjoyed ourselves.

As much as I've tried to rationalize the loss of the Eagle, it's been winding its way into my psyche. I've decided it's grief, which I know enough about to realize that it's a painful passage (Ooh, that sailing reference hurt). I do hope that because this boat is just a "thing", the grief period over it will be less intense, and hopefully not long lasting. Human grief sure lasts, at least it has for me. Even after thirty years, time can stand still staring at the loss of Annie. These days Anne grief, while rare, comes suddenly, out of the blue as it were, and stands there shuddering like a lost child. The reminders are usually as unwitting as they are sudden, even though I should be more aware. For example, last Christmas we started talking about "prom' pictures, and just like that we were rummaging through the attic. The unintended consequence was  that a gush of Anne memories poured out of the boxes like rain water. Or like the time we watched the movie "Beaches" for family night. I probably should have read the plot summary instead of choosing the movie as a "pig in a poke" ; instead, we were all blubbering like salt foam on surf at the end. So it goes. I know this much about grief. It hurts. It hurts in the present, the past, and the future. It's not a voyage I enjoy. I'll miss the Eagle. I'll be forlorn about the cost. But I'll realize that every sad memory is buffeted by a breath of fair wind that implores me to be grateful, lifts my spirits, and allows me to welcome a new day. So, despite any angst I may feel, I must nonetheless conclude that life is good, especially today.

George, reaching for his sweetie's hand after dominoes.

 Sail away, old friend.