57060--topped with a garlic crouton

[zyzyly]

I went to the main campus this morning for a faculty meeting, but no one told me the meeting was cancelled. So I spent a few minutes talking with the 4th semester teachers about some changes to the cardiac curriculum. One of the teachers was my cardiac teacher when I was in the 4th semester there. It was her first semester teaching. She asked if I could come over and teach the cardiac content for her this semester, seeing as I have nothing to do. I said "of course."

I came home, because other than the faculty meeting, it was my day off. I love having Mondays off. I did the laundry, washed the dishes, and watched a movie. It was such a good movie that I can't even remember what it was. After Malida got home from school I helped her with her homework.

The classes she's taking this semester are a lot more challenging than her previous classes. She is expected to read an article, answer questions about the content and construction, and then write a paper explaining it. "What is the relationship between the first and second sentence in the third paragraph?" Stuff like that. Sometimes she wants me to answer the question for her, and I have to get all teacher on her and explain the process without actually giving her the answer. Sometimes it would just be easier to give her the answer.

I went to the store and bought some cling wrap. I bought two, because they seem to run out sooner than I expect. As I was opening it, I remembered a picture I took back in 2006 of a box of cling wrap on my counter.

My wife at the time had bought it on May 1, 2004. I knew this because she had written the date on the outside of the box with a sharpie pen. She did that. I asked her why, and she told me it was so she could know how long things lasted. Her dad still does it. Go to his house and check the light bulbs and the toothpaste.

The box she bought on May 1, 2004 lasted until January 13, 2006. The irony is that she died in November of 2004, almost 14 months before the box ran out. Whenever I look at the picture, I think about it a little. She knew she was dying when she bought the box, but she still marked it. It's one of the unanswered questions I have. Did she think she was going to outlast the box, or did she do it knowing she wouldn't? Or did she not even thing about it--just marked it because that's what she did.

Here's what I really think. I think she still had hope she'd be alive when the box ran out. She wasn't one to give up, although she accepted her inevitable death with grace and dignity.

When that box first ran out, it caused me to reflect on the impermanence of everything. Nothing lasts forever. So I took a picture to make it last a little longer, and the next day I marked the new box with the date--January 14, 2006, and took a picture of that too, somewhat enshrined on the kitchen counter. I didn't mark today's box, or take a picture of it. Things run out when they run out.

It's little things like this that keep my wife in my memory, and cause me to think about her for a moment or two almost every day.

Comments

[vaysha.livejournal.com]

I still remember here each year on my day of those who have passed altar. I remember her journal as well. She was a good woman.

[zyzyly.livejournal.com]

She was. I am so happy to hear that you remember her in that way.

[vaysha.livejournal.com]

yes and incredibly brave.

[zyzyly.livejournal.com]

it's true. I was so in awe of how she continued to give all the love she had in her, right up until the end.

[anita-margarita.livejournal.com]

Because we don't stop living even though each day might be our last.

[zyzyly.livejournal.com]

I hope I can live fully until the moment I die.

[pasticcio.livejournal.com]

I like to think that she wrote the date on that box of Cling Wrap on purpose .. she knew what she was doing and she knew that it would begin the process of "meaningful coincidences" when she was gone .. she was a very smart cookie that one :)

[zyzyly.livejournal.com]

She was, and you just might be right.

[vereorc.livejournal.com]

I remember your pictures and your original post about Arlina dating things like cling wrap. Actually, I've never met you (nor her) but I actually think about her often because of that post. I started dating things in my own home because I wondered myself how long it takes us to get through things. So every time I date something or see a date, I think of her. Not everything is something to get through, though I do find that I slip into that mentality more often than I'd like to admit.

[zyzyly.livejournal.com]

Isn't it interesting how our lives intersect, in ways we don't even imagine.

[pinkroo.livejournal.com]

you bless my life with your observations, your words, your pictures. Teared up reading this; I love that you make room for Arlina in your day, still.

[zyzyly.livejournal.com]

There used to be a big hole in my heart that I thought I would never fill. Eventually it became a place full of love, and that's where she lives.

[fivecats.livejournal.com]

"So come, my friends, be not afraid.
We are so lightly here.
It is in love that we are made;
In love we disappear..."

-- Leonard Cohen, Sharon Robinson

[zyzyly.livejournal.com]

yes. beautiful.

[kishenehn.livejournal.com]

That was a really lovely post ...

[zyzyly.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you were there to read it.

[3-black-cats.livejournal.com]

I posted a reply, but didn't notice that I wasn't logged in. So the last anonymous comment was probably mine. Just so you know.

[jadeejf.livejournal.com]

I remember the pictures and the stories - it was one of those things that is both charming and bittersweet. Hopefully I'll remember her when I see cling wrap again, too :-) It's funny how such seemingly trivial things wind up reminding you of certain people and their impermanence. One of my dearest friends now drives a Jeep Cherokee, and I think how someday when we are no longer around each other for whatever reason, I have no doubt I will still see those jalopies driving around towns and smile.