Coming home

     It was a trip I will never forget.  It isn't a request most people get but it was that of my brother when he asked that I bring the portion of his ashes that are to be in Lompoc - home.  I had been in Portland for 26 days, I missed my husband, I missed my house, I missed my life - I am still missing my brother, but I was ready to come home.  I had stayed with the kids to try to help in tying up loose ends and closing down the house, spending some "normal" time together since Mark's passing.  We had even had a few very nice dinners - one in celebration of Victoria getting her new job at Johns Hopkins and the other on our final night together before we all left the next day.  It has been a huge emotional journey for me, for all of us actually and I will never ever regret the fact that I choose to spend this time with the kids, my brother and his Portland.  My nieces have grown to be AMAZING young people, spending some quality time with Billy makes me understand why Liz things that he hung the moon.  Nate is a strong guy and will do well with helping to take care of his sisters and our family in a way that will continue to make my brother proud.  Eventually, we will all be "better".
     I am still not sure what I had expected when I was asked to bring my brothers ashes home.  I do know that possibly because I was exhaused and not thinking exactly clearly, I went to my suitcase and cleared the entire thing out.  I boxed up my clothes and sent them home via UPS - I did not want my brother in my suitcase with my "under things" - that just didn't seem appropriate.  I also don't know what I was thinking in clearing the ENTIRE thing out, but I did.  So, you can only imagine the giggles when the girls and I met after our dinner together to hug good byes and exchange the ashes - which, came in a container about the size of an old 35mm film canister.  I believe it was Liz that piped in "I guess he wasn't as substaintial in size as we had thought" - it was bittersweet, it was real life, it was a huge learning experience.
     I decided to bring him home in my purse, so with my empty suitcase in hand I arrived at the Portland airport with sufficient time in case there were questions regarding my "passenger".  I had appropriate paperwork, labels etc. and I had no problems and boarded and we were ready for take off on time.
     Huge butterflies were in my stomach and as I looked out the window of the plane as we taxied down the runway and I started to cry.  I had gone to Portland to see my brother, I was leaving and would never ever see him again.  I had grown to love Portland and the surrounding areas and I wasn't now sure when I would return, or how it would be when I did.  I was ALONE for the first time in 26 days, it was a strange feeling.  I had been busy with everyone else, I had tended to everyone else, I had not spent time with myself and my feelings - I continued to cry.
     As we took off I looked toward the cemetary in Portland where my brother had a terrific view of the river, the airport, Mt. Hood and his beloved city and I whispered good bye for the last time, and I continued to cry.  The woman next to me in the seat never said a word, but at some point she reached over and held my hand - and I continued to cry.
     It was an overcast day in Portland but as we took off and went up over the clouds it was absolutely gorgeous.  The sky was so blue it hurt your eyes, the clouds white and puffy and floating around and the sun was bright and you could absolutely see forever.  I thanked Mark for the beautiful view, I imagined he must be enjoying it too.  As we continued the flight and I looked down on the beauty below and all around, it dawned on me that we were taking the same route "home" that Mark had driven so very many times.  You could see the coast of Oregon on one side and the mountains covered in snow on the other - we flew very near Yosemite, a place that Mark and I shared such a special bond over.  Down the state of California into the Bay Area, a place that Mark loved and where his favorite A's play.  We flew out over the San Francisco Bay and turned inland toward Napa and Pleasanton, places that he loved and where his kids had been born and raised.  Then into San Jose and then down over Central California where he had spent so much time, I was still crying but I was thinking what a wonderful flight Mark was having in his actual "coming home" trip.  We then entered our descent into Burbank, right near the area where he lived in Southern California as well, he was truly going home.  At some point I had stopped crying and I was smiling thinking about what a huge honor this had been to bring Mark home on his "free Southwest" air flight - he would have been tickled to know that he had gotten a free flight!
     Steve picked me up at the airport in Burbank - I was happy to be there.  I explained the trip down to him and he knew exactly what I meant, Mark loved these places.  After we continued to drive North again, visiting places that he would have known as well, we could not resist stopping at In and Out Burger.  So, with Mark in my purse we made a final trip into his beloved In and Out, he felt at "home" there as well.
     I may be crazy, but it was meant to be.  It made something that was about as painful as can be into a beautiful experience that I shared alone with my brother for the last time.
     Life IS good.