Looking for the sun
Sitting here watching the tide come in up at Easton Beach in Newport. Really miss that place. The shore away from the shore. I remember going back and forth with Pop Pop about how great it was up there; from the food, to the beaches to the town and the mansions and the Cliff Walk. He never believed me. I think in one year’s time I ate more seafood there than I ever did it the Jersey Shore. Many times I rewind back to the times I spent up there. Mostly just walking the streets and enjoying that clean, salty air. Times when I wasn’t stressed or depressed. Times you were still here and not gone. Times when things were more like they used to be. So much has changed. As things usually do. Still looking for a place, but may have to hit a hard pause on it. I want to enjoy the summer. Hopefully get some time away from the area. I remember that summer you had the Bitty. It was so simple just to get away. Even if it was a one room shack, it was peaceful and quiet. When the sun went down that little patio was cool and calm. You really could stock that place with everything. I remember how much food you were able to get in that little place. And staying many times that summer. It was a transitional summer for many of us. I wonder how much easier your life could’ve been full time at the shore. Just the ease of living down there would seem to be beneficial enough. I know when I leave Manayunk, I won’t miss the noise, the traffic, the smells, or the constant congestion. I won’t miss it one bit. Makes me think we might’ve been born on the wrong coast. Ah, California. Another great shore. I wonder what you would be doing on a day like this. Beautiful morning. I know probably waking up and having 10 cups of coffee. I remember how much you would get yelled at leaving a whole pot in there. You should’ve had your own little breakfast spot. Ha. I don’t even know if you still read the Delco Times or just went house-hunting as soon as you woke up. I have all the shore houses and houses you sent to me. I miss getting them. I know how bad you wanted to move somewhere nice. I know how bad you wanted to pay the house off and move on. It’s like another life that we’re still there. It’s sometimes a blur cause it really went too fast. I wish we had more family time. Just more fun times playing games or doing fun things. Felt like we were always going and never stopped and lots of stress. I do remember how many great dinners you made, how many times you ran up and down those stairs, you were always doing something. We were really lucky to have a mother who worked so hard to make a nice home for us. Every part of that house was clean. In some ways I think you enjoyed cleaning. I know it was tough on your body. I remember the last time you were at my apartment to help me with some things and you freaked cause I sprayed the baseboards with bleach (as if I cared about a rental). Haha. You couldn’t believe it. I still have your soap brush and Fels Naptha soap. Lisa gave me a bag of your clothes. It was like you hadn’t even touched them. It was comforting to be around your smell and your style. It always bothered me when we were in the rental from that weekend how your clothes were just left. I knew you would never be wearing them again and seeing them and your sandals, still with sand in them, was terribly heartbreaking. They just hung there, with your glasses and the DVD’s in that room. I will never get that room out of my head and the fact I was there and you would never be. I wonder what you would think about us stopping by there after the fact. I guess in some way of comfort, it was the last place you were as yourself. The last place “you” were and last place you enjoyed yourself. Another friend lost a parent. I immediately reached out to him and sent him a message. He has lost both parents. So very tragic. Someone my age who doesn’t have either parent has to be hard. I can only hope he just takes care of himself and his fiancé. I watched a pretty good documentary about a guy who is a great skateboarder. I found it very interesting. He had many struggles in his life. His dad took him from Brazil because his mother became addicted to drugs. Lived a hard life in NYC after being born in Brazil. His mother died of AIDS, but he never went to the funeral because he was dealing with his own demons. Towards the end of it, he returns to his roots, Brazil, re-connects with his father he hadn’t been connected to in a long time and the ocean where he surfed many years ago as a child. He said something that as long as he has the ocean, he has his home. It was very poignant. No longer chasing the high in NYC, he got back to “sand under his feet”. I thought of you. Thought of the stress and anxiety that left you as soon as you hit the beach. I wish we lived at the shore, but I am thankful for the life I did have growing up, sports, and friends. I saw that picture Donna took of me coming down the steps and you were just standing there. It was like you were watching a hurricane walk by. It’s a great picture. You’re still, just taking life in. I have to remember to stop more. Slow down. Smile more. Think less. Well, think about good stuff and expand my mind in the ways I did years ago. Let in new ideas, new concepts. Embrace and be open to new things that will help me. Let go of regret. Maybe that is just something that is part of our fiber sometimes. I was talking to a close friend who lost her mom a year after you passed. I feel her pain and all I can do is be there for her. We share the sadness, the loss, and the missing of both of you. I don’t think we dwell on the sadness, but we reflect. We realize you and her mom are with both of us always. She was down the beach, walking the walk her and her mom did times before. I imagine, like I do you, her mom is there, with her, holding her hand and protecting her. I wish that for others more so than I do myself. Somewhere along the line, I got used to being upset and disappointed as much as I did being happy and excited. These times of missing you, there is no end in sight. I guess that’s what is hardest. These days pass by and I never know when I will see you again. Kathy and I talked the other day about how much you probably miss us and your little life down here. Simple things like your little trips and just “dropping by”. Things we took for granted, as loved ones always do, a hug, a kiss on the cheek, a laugh, a “Oh (insert on of the five names here)”, your Peps, your Wawa pretzels, your penne a la vodka and shrimp (Lam made it recently I think), maybe it was Clams and Linguine….I don’t know. Oh. I made a big batch of baked zit with meat and sauce. It turned out great. Fed me for like 5 days. You’d be happy to know I am able to monitor my diabetes a lot better now with the CGM. That’s one of the memories I have involving you. I got out of my appt with the NP, driving down Locust heading towards 9th or 10th street to get on 76. I remember telling you and my voice cracking that I would need to take shots with my food. I remember you being silent for a little bit, then I remember you starting to cry, which made me cry and you just said, “I don’t understand it Bobby. You didn’t deserve this….I wish I could take it away from you…” I remember driving, but I can’t even remember seeing things. Just driving by memory and trying to listen to you talk and I remember immediately trying to make you feel better cause I knew that helping you would help me. I remember saying “its okay Mom. It will be fine.” In some way thinking it would be fine or get better. I think that appt was the last one you got to hear about. My buddy Rick aka Pretty Ricky from Edwards told me about a psychic in Aston. He said she’s really great and helped him get through a very traumatic situation he went through. I think I am going to reach out to her to schedule some time. Just get my mind off thinking. Supposed to be storms coming. You would always be up on the latest and greatest about the weather. “Go hunker down somewhere til it passes”. Sometimes I get more out of being in the path of the storm than running for protection. I think about you in that sense. Never shied away from any challenge that life through at you. I was thinking the other day about the cars we had wat back when. I remember the red plastic you could scratch into with your nail of the Escort. The basically melting faux plastic/rubber of the death red Plymouth that would burn the underside of your leg if it was too hot out. The beat up tan Caprisse Classic with the light brown felt seats. The poop brown Concord. I guess the family didn’t like the color blue. I remember you driving them all. Mainly the Caprisse before you got the Windstar. I remember sharing that with you when I would go to UPS at nights. I realize now what your dreams for us were, but I know that life just moves and we move with it. I know we spent so much time with you. I wish we could’ve just had more times talking about things you liked, places you liked to be. Feelings you liked to experience. What you wanted to be when you were young. Memories of your great childhood on Edgehill. Anything that was about you. I know you didn’t like to put the focus on you, but your life was important. More important than anyone I know. More important than even my own. We miss you Mom. Wherever you are, just know I love you. Bobby.