Last month, 3 weeks after Kara’s Homecoming, I spoke on community at a women’s retreat. When I was first approached about this opportunity several months ago, I was unsure. While community is one of my favorite topics, I had never done anything to this scale with sharing my heart in person. I immediately texted Kara. She basically insisted I do it, and she was my cheerleader as I prepared.
Last weekend we had our first major “first” without Kara: Story turned 6. She wanted a few friends and a Rock Star Birthday Party. No games—just a 6-year old hangout party. So that is what we did. Harper and a friend made all the decorations. I asked a neighbor, “What snacks do rock stars eat?” Her reply, “Laxatives and celery.” We opted to stray from the theme a bit for better snacks. Mickey made the cake according to Story’s specifications—lemon cake with lemon frosting and eyeballs.
We gathered to see Mickey. She was in town for Story’s birthday, and it felt as though a missing puzzle piece had been returned. Seeing her quiets something in us. Sets the world right again. It’s still tipped slightly off axis, as I imagine it always will be. But she’s there. She’s there, and peace slides around us again.
We arrived at Kara’s house—will we ever stop thinking of it that way?—and clutched coffee mugs in our hands. Talked. Even laughed. And then Jason announced that we were welcome to go up. That one piece of information we’d been avoiding as we drank in each other’s hearts. We were there for more than coffee. Even more than Mickey.
We were there to sort through Kara’s things.
From an article originally posted August 12, 2012…
This weekend was amazing, though painfully lacking in sleep. As Lake would say, ‘I’m very pleepy.” I could not have imagined a more joyous occasion. I was anxious about being the old lady amongst a bunch of youngsters. I was nervous in anticipation of having the stamina to keep pace, but something I should have known from the start. I LOVE PEOPLE! Love em! Can’t get enough of them. All types! People! People! People! I had a weekend full of them!
I heard a story on The Moth last weekend about a man caring for his terminally ill mother. He moved home to take care of her in those last days, loving the opportunity for that intimacy with her. One night they were sharing secrets; his were mostly about boyhood antics. But one of hers broke his heart: when she got married, her roommate/maid-of-honor wanted to throw her a bridal shower. The bride was different and never quite fit in with her peers and was afraid no one would want to come to her party, but in her excitement over the wedding, she let her friend talk her into it. On the day of the shower, she and her roommate and her mother sat in her apartment all afternoon; no one else came to her party. What she feared had come true—no one wanted to come to her party. No one wanted to celebrate her. No one cared about her.
