Day 13: Thursday, March 31, 2016
SO. So the plan, once we realized what we were actually in for regarding Mike's dad, was for my mom to fly out and help me get back to NY with my sanity somewhat intact and, hopefully, before it was too late. But then this morning the phone rang somewhere between 3 and 4 AM, and I didn't really want to answer it. Nothing good comes from a telephone that rings out in the night. And for as long as the phone still rang, I could maintain my blissful little bubble of denial. But I had to answer it, and I listened very carefully as my husband told me what I already knew: that Doug was gone. That I wasn't going to make it back in time to say goodbye to a man who has been my second father for the last 18 years. That my husband's world was collapsing, and I couldn't be there for him when he needed me most. On so many levels, and for so many reasons, I was heartbroken. Except for the fact that there was no time for that. There was no time for grief or even reverie. I no longer needed to rush back, but I still had to get back. And I had to get back with kids in tow, kids who still hadn't been to the Grand Canyon even though this was our big Grand Canyon trip. I had miles to go before I could allow myself the luxury of feeling anything. 2300 miles to be exact.
And so we began. It took a huge chunk of the morning to finish packing the car. I had managed to get most of our things re-packed on Tuesday, but getting it all in the car was completely another story. As it turns out, I am neither tall enough nor strong enough to pack a car top carrier. Jack, always eager to climb on top of the car for any reason, was a huge to help to me, although trusting all our clothes to the knot-tying skills of an 8 year-old, even one who is a Bear Scout, was nerve-wracking to say the least. We got a late start and finally headed toward The Grand Canyon just before lunch time. It had already been a really long day, and I couldn't even imagine how much longer it was going to be.
Driving across Arizona, you see lots of signs for The Grand Canyon. However, I wasn't aware how seriously far The Grand Canyon was from pretty much everything. It's far! When we finally arrived, it was already late afternoon. After a brief miscommunication that I do no have the strength to relive right now, we were able to sit through the last Ranger talk, which was required for our Junior Ranger badges, and then we headed to the gift shop first and finally to Mather Point to see this giant rent in the land. You can see what is important to my boys.
The Grand Canyon seems like a silly name for such an immensely ginormous feature. It's like saying the universe is big, or the ocean is damp. "Grand" somehow just doesn't really even begin to cover it. If you've ever been there, you know what I mean. Letchworth is a grand canyon. The Grand Canyon, well, that's something else entirely. It struck me how much the boys were moved by it, though. They reported feeling peace (thank you, Montessori school!). Standing amidst crowds of tourists, they remarked on the quiet of the place. We have seen so many beautiful places on this trip, and there have been several times when it has been hard to ignore the divinity I have felt in a place. Even on that crowded point, far from alone and no where near solitude, I was able to find a thread of peace. It was what I desperately needed right then, and I hope to be able to hold on to that thread during the months to come.
We left just before the sun set over the canyon. It was bad enough that I was there without Mike, who had desperately wanted to be there with us. I just couldn't bring myself to enjoy the beauty of the sunset on today of all days, and I didn't want to waste that experience. We will be back, and I will see the sunset over the canyon with him at my side, just as he should be. So we walked back to the Visitor Center to collect our Junior Ranger badges just in time to realize that they were decidedly closed. Jackson was distraught, to say the least. Luckily, I'm sure Aunt Gale will be back here sometime in the near future, and I am willing to bet, given our sob story, that someone will be willing to give her our badges. Most parks let you just mail your booklets in, but the Grand Canyon doesn't seem to have that same policy. If they do, it isn't advertised. We did manage to find our tokens, though. The parks have been selling these little tokens as collector's items. We have grabbed one from every park we've been to, but the visitor's center didn't have them. They were at a different store, which was luckily still open. It was late when we left, and getting dark. And then it started to snow. The boys laughed and said it looked like we were in hyperdrive. A snowstorm in the desert was really the last thing I needed. But we managed to make it to Tuba City by around 10pm or so. We found a hotel with a Denny's, and that was really all we could even hope to ask for. Tuba City is back in the Navajo Nation, where there is nothing for miles but desert and divinity. I have to hope the rest of this trip goes better than today. I don't dare say it out loud, but it can't get any worse.
SO. So the plan, once we realized what we were actually in for regarding Mike's dad, was for my mom to fly out and help me get back to NY with my sanity somewhat intact and, hopefully, before it was too late. But then this morning the phone rang somewhere between 3 and 4 AM, and I didn't really want to answer it. Nothing good comes from a telephone that rings out in the night. And for as long as the phone still rang, I could maintain my blissful little bubble of denial. But I had to answer it, and I listened very carefully as my husband told me what I already knew: that Doug was gone. That I wasn't going to make it back in time to say goodbye to a man who has been my second father for the last 18 years. That my husband's world was collapsing, and I couldn't be there for him when he needed me most. On so many levels, and for so many reasons, I was heartbroken. Except for the fact that there was no time for that. There was no time for grief or even reverie. I no longer needed to rush back, but I still had to get back. And I had to get back with kids in tow, kids who still hadn't been to the Grand Canyon even though this was our big Grand Canyon trip. I had miles to go before I could allow myself the luxury of feeling anything. 2300 miles to be exact.
And so we began. It took a huge chunk of the morning to finish packing the car. I had managed to get most of our things re-packed on Tuesday, but getting it all in the car was completely another story. As it turns out, I am neither tall enough nor strong enough to pack a car top carrier. Jack, always eager to climb on top of the car for any reason, was a huge to help to me, although trusting all our clothes to the knot-tying skills of an 8 year-old, even one who is a Bear Scout, was nerve-wracking to say the least. We got a late start and finally headed toward The Grand Canyon just before lunch time. It had already been a really long day, and I couldn't even imagine how much longer it was going to be.
Driving across Arizona, you see lots of signs for The Grand Canyon. However, I wasn't aware how seriously far The Grand Canyon was from pretty much everything. It's far! When we finally arrived, it was already late afternoon. After a brief miscommunication that I do no have the strength to relive right now, we were able to sit through the last Ranger talk, which was required for our Junior Ranger badges, and then we headed to the gift shop first and finally to Mather Point to see this giant rent in the land. You can see what is important to my boys.
The Grand Canyon seems like a silly name for such an immensely ginormous feature. It's like saying the universe is big, or the ocean is damp. "Grand" somehow just doesn't really even begin to cover it. If you've ever been there, you know what I mean. Letchworth is a grand canyon. The Grand Canyon, well, that's something else entirely. It struck me how much the boys were moved by it, though. They reported feeling peace (thank you, Montessori school!). Standing amidst crowds of tourists, they remarked on the quiet of the place. We have seen so many beautiful places on this trip, and there have been several times when it has been hard to ignore the divinity I have felt in a place. Even on that crowded point, far from alone and no where near solitude, I was able to find a thread of peace. It was what I desperately needed right then, and I hope to be able to hold on to that thread during the months to come.
We left just before the sun set over the canyon. It was bad enough that I was there without Mike, who had desperately wanted to be there with us. I just couldn't bring myself to enjoy the beauty of the sunset on today of all days, and I didn't want to waste that experience. We will be back, and I will see the sunset over the canyon with him at my side, just as he should be. So we walked back to the Visitor Center to collect our Junior Ranger badges just in time to realize that they were decidedly closed. Jackson was distraught, to say the least. Luckily, I'm sure Aunt Gale will be back here sometime in the near future, and I am willing to bet, given our sob story, that someone will be willing to give her our badges. Most parks let you just mail your booklets in, but the Grand Canyon doesn't seem to have that same policy. If they do, it isn't advertised. We did manage to find our tokens, though. The parks have been selling these little tokens as collector's items. We have grabbed one from every park we've been to, but the visitor's center didn't have them. They were at a different store, which was luckily still open. It was late when we left, and getting dark. And then it started to snow. The boys laughed and said it looked like we were in hyperdrive. A snowstorm in the desert was really the last thing I needed. But we managed to make it to Tuba City by around 10pm or so. We found a hotel with a Denny's, and that was really all we could even hope to ask for. Tuba City is back in the Navajo Nation, where there is nothing for miles but desert and divinity. I have to hope the rest of this trip goes better than today. I don't dare say it out loud, but it can't get any worse.
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