Tomorrow is young Jackson James’s second birthday. It’s also the sixth month mark of Ruth’s accident. The twenty-seventh of the month took on new meaning when she died. When children are born, we document their birth in terms of months. He’s six months old, not a half year. That’s how I think of Ruth. She’s “been gone” six months.
For eighteen months straight, Ruth put a twenty-dollar bill in an “owl” bank, took a picture or video, and sent it off to Jackson’s dad, Michael, to document the deposit. She did that the morning that she died. She also wrote a wedding anniversary card for Jackson’s mom and dad. They would commemorate their anniversary on October 2nd. She included a check with the card so they could purchase a celebratory bottle of wine. That’s the last thing she put in the mail. No one imagined that Mike would fly to Michigan and spend the weekend with me before opening the California card several days later. Simple things were totally disrupted.
I was scheduled to play golf the morning of the 27th but the outing was canceled the night before because of extreme cold. If I had played that morning, she probably would have still been in bed when I left. Instead, I slept in and she got up before me. When I got up, I went down to my computer to work on a blog that was to be posted the following day.
She planned to play dominos with a group of ladies at “the club”, have lunch with them, and then head off to the Mt. Pleasant casino for a few hours. She was taking a shower when I went down to write. Her sister, Kathy, tried to call her but Ruth didn’t answer. Kathy phoned me instead. I was talking with her when Ruth came down to say good-bye for the day. She stuck her head in the office door and waved. I motioned for her to stop, because I knew she’d want to know what Kathy told me.
Kathy and a friend were heading to Florida. They planned to leave on Thursday. Ruth feared she’d be driving into Hurricane Ian. Kathy’s call put those fears to rest. They were going to wait to see how things played out.
After reviewing Kathy’s updated itinerary, Ruth and I discussed making plans for a trip out west to see our California kids. We selected a date and I was to explore flight options. We’d make the reservations the following morning. The last thing she said was, “I’ll be home by eight. I want to be home before it gets dark.”
I followed her declaration with “Have a good time.” Wishing each other a good time when we left was our way of saying “I love you. Take care of yourself.” She said that each time I went out the door no matter where I was headed, and I learned to follow her lead. I’m thankful the words were a part of our final exchange.
Ruth and I visited Jackson several times during his young life. He was ten days old the first time we saw him. Like most grandparents, we loved him before he was born. We made a half dozen trips to see him during his first eighteen months. Ruth made a solo trip last June, and we made our final trip as a couple two weeks before she died. We planned to continue seeing him every six weeks or so, knowing most of the travel was on us. We were retired so what better way to spend part of our kid’s inheritance.
I purchased Jackson’s birthday gift for him about a month ago. Kate offered a suggestion, and I followed through. He likes to help his dad prepare meals for the family and had been standing on a step stool to assist. His new high-tech stand is a safer option and one that I’m sure Ruth would approve. Sometimes he just eats from his new perch. It serves a multi-purpose and so far, so good.
This is a bittersweet day for me. I’m elated to have a young grandson, who may just be the smartest young lad ever born, but I miss his Nana. He’ll learn of her through others. Mike and Kate, BZ and Sutton, David and Lindsay, Brady, Eva, and I will make sure he knows her and how much she loved him even though they only had eighteen months together.