Modern Day Preparation

We’re flying to Philadelphia tomorrow for my father’s funeral. Today is the day to get everything done before we go. That means tending to emails, packing our bags, checking-in for flights, writing this blog, putting gas in the car, getting cash at the bank, filling the hummingbird feeders, and gathering cables that will charge our phones on the go. We’ll be relying on Uber to get us around, the weather app for updates, and United’s app to get us back home.

I keep thinking about olden days as I move through my tasks, what it must have been like when someone died a hundred years ago. I imagine family members, all living nearby, gathering, making and eating meals together, telling stories, singing a little, sniffling a lot. Before backhoes, they might have even been digging a hole.

This morning, I could feel my nerves buzzing. Some of it anticipating the traveling part, worried I’ll forget my wallet or that we’ll miss our flight or the flight will be cancelled. But this time, it’s also the reality of what’s happening. This thing that only happens once: The end of having parents to call or visit, to lean on when life upsets me, or to care for when caring for them is needed. It’s the end of a familiar home filled with stuff I didn’t know I loved but do simply because it’s in the house that’s always been home; that’s always been there.

But here I am. Here we are. It’s almost time to go. Tending to emails, responding to texts, packing the shoes I’ll wear, and writing this blog are my rituals of preparation. I do them as best I can.