It's what I do

Jerry's father died last week. We knew it was coming, but when it actually happens, there is no way to really predict reactions and feelings. Jerry had been going down to visit him fairly regularly in the past several months; on his last visit I accompanied him. We saw his dad declining pretty rapidly.

This was a man who perhaps less than two years ago was still beating people half his age at racquetball. He had been diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis some time ago, but it seemed the disease was very slow in progressing. I think it may have been to his active lifestyle. Besides racquetball, Don took care of property he owned, doing maintenance and mechanical work.

Don would have celebrated his 88th birthday at the end of this month. So while he lived a long, full and mostly healthy life, it's still not easy to say goodbye to a loved one.

We got the news late Thursday evening, and Jerry left the next morning for Orange County. At the time he said he'd let me know when funeral arrangements were made, and then I would come down. But it didn't take either of us long to realize that just wasn't what felt right, so I flew down on Saturday.

And I started to do what I do. Feed people. I cooked dinner. With Don's wife Carmen and one of her daughters, I went shopping. I began planning what we would have to eat after the funeral.

For me, food is a way I express myself. It is love; it is caring.

The funeral was Wednesday, and I came back to the house after the church service. I didn't like missing the military honors at the cemetery, but I felt I had a job to do at home. I arranged trays; I cut up the brownies I had baked. I arranged chairs. I wanted everything to be ready when Carmen, Jerry and his sister Donna, and the rest of the family arrived.

Carmen has four children and they in so many ways were like Don's children. They, in turn have a bunch of kids, and a few of them have children as well. Don was their grandfather and great-grandfather. At the funeral they spoke so lovingly about him. It was touching and bittersweet.

We sat around after the funeral and basically had a non-alcoholic wake. Stories were told, and we got to know each other all over again.

There is still much to do, so Jerry will be making trips down to Orange County to help Carmen sort through things and help with what needs to be done. When I can, I will go with him. And I'll make dinner.