Going Home

Yesterday I drove my parents back to the area outside of Philadelphia where they raised me. My Dad's oldest friend, who was also my godfather, died and we went to the viewing, funeral Mass, burial and gathering afterwards. It was a day for tears over his passing but smiles at the reminiscing. My uncle was such a good soul, reserved and Italian-tough, but always a teddy bear with me. He had been widowed three years ago and had missed my aunt so. She was the other side of their coin -- open, gregarious, always delighted to see you walk in her door. We shared so many incredible meals and happy times with them. I'm certain she welcomed him home to heaven with joy. So I'm glad that his loneliness is over but I'll really miss him.

It was a day when I also had to see with my heart that Mom and Dad are aging and the toll such a day takes on folks in their late 80's and early 90's was clear by the time it ended. They are a little unsteady on their feet, a little more forgetful. Dad can't hear well and I see that his eyesight is a little weak. Mom needs her cane. I know the day is coming when I will be the daughter saying farewell to her parents. So there is some apprehension there -- apprehension mixed with regret as I leaf through the memories of going home.

You see, yesterday we drove past my college, St. Joe's, and out through Wynnewood, Ardmore, Bryn Mawr, Rosemont. All the Main Line towns I used to scoot through to friends' homes, shops, dances, games, schools. The trip to the cemetery took us out through Villanova, Gladwyne, Broomall, Newtown Square, on a fall day filled with autumn colors and strong breezes. We wound up the road by our old neighborhood, past my bus stop, our favorite diner, the old library that held the joy of new books for me as a kid. We passed shopping centers my Mom and I had known like the proverbial "back of our hands." And on the way to the luncheon, we drove right down my old school bus route, past the horse farm where our driver would pull over on Spring mornings to let us count the number of new foals who'd been born in the stables at night and were just taking hesitant baby steps in the pasture while the mares nuzzled them in the morning sunlight. At the end of the afternoon, I drove back by way of our old street, and we sat in front of our old house for a moment, sad at its disrepair. It looked unloved and worn. I wanted to jump out, trim back the trees and shrubs, spruce it up inside and out, fling open the doors and hand it back to Mom and Dad with a thank-you for a happy childhood. But we had to drive on, to drive home.

I stood by my parents yesterday, feeling them cope with the loss of another dear friend, watching them let go of their pasts with tears and yet with smiles. They even joked about the mausoleum where they've bought "drawers", as my mother calls them, for their "eternal storage." A pair of ghouls, they are. Dad reminded me he gets the one with the air conditioning, Mom wants the one with Sinatra playing "uninterrupted". They joke and I laugh with them but I'm forced to glance toward the day when I, their only child, will have to let them go. And I shiver inside at the thought of a world where I won't hear my Dad's distinctive voice, my Mom's sarcastic comments. Even thinking of it imprints an emptiness on me. I know it will happen and I'll deal with it. But going home with them for a day took me back to those uncomplicated years before my marriage, before making my own family, before disappointment. And I found myself today in a little bit of despair.

So today has been tough. I've had one of those "How did I get here?" days and it's hard to shake. You see, I not only went to that funeral this week but I also met two old high school friends for dinner a few nights ago. Also in Philadelphia, off the far side of the Schuylkill River, in the hills of East Falls. Grace Kelly Country. I'd never been there before and now I'm dying to see it in daylight! It was so picturesque, so lovely just to drive through. And today I've been asking myself, Why did I ever leave those beautiful surroundings where every street and traffic light was familiar? How did I say good-bye to hills and valleys, niches and nooks, cozy neighbors and childhood friends? Why did I think living in the midst of flatness and traffic and turnpikes was acceptable? Could I ever go back there now?

I know it's just dumb. My life has been here in New Jersey for thirty-plus years. Mom and Dad moved here as soon as their first grandchild arrived, for God's sake! I've raised my children here, made wonderful friends, carved out a life both as a married person and then as a single one. It's a good life. But it's crowded and expensive and not very pretty here. And it's flat and dull to look at. And while there are lots of townships and boroughs, there are few actual towns or real communities. Shopping centers aren't Main Streets, you know? And old friends, childhood places, familiar faces....when you spend some time within them you realize how much you've successfully ignored the very real fact that you've missed them so much. I wish I had been able to create a life in that place with the same people I loved then and love now -- without missing any of the folks I would never have met if I hadn't moved away! I know that isn't possible and that wishing is a waste of time. But it was a day for remembering yesterday. A day for a bit of regretting today. Tomorrow... I have to take hold of it, make it better. I'll do it. But down deep I'll be resisting the temptation to just jump in the car and spend the day driving back, riding around, exploring, rediscovering and remembering it all. Even amid the tears, it was beautiful.