First, let me note that I ran 4 miles yesterday, and I was supposed to run 4 today, but I didn't. Busy day, as you'll hear shortly. Yesterday morning, there was frost on the grass here in Syosset. It has been cold -- but sunny -- all week. At long last, the 10,000 bug bites I received on the insides of my knees, courtesy of the insectoid residents of Chincoteague, have disappeared. (My mom reminded me that a couple of years ago up at Acadia, I alone, out of a crowd of [mostly elderly] bus tourists, was targeted by mosquitoes. I guess they find me irresistible.)
Today, as yesterday, my family was at my grandmother's apartment in Brooklyn, going through her belongings and trying to see to them. I got a van today so my brother and I could rescue some stuff, which is now in my parents' garage, but except for some of the smaller items, most of the big pieces -- including some heavy, probably valuable furniture -- will be given over to a wholesaler-type guy, who will liquidate the remaining contents. I guess it's just not practical to save some of this stuff, which I understand, but it is a shame. I suppose I had thought that everything could just be preserved in situ for an indeterminate period of time: surely, as a museum, the place could endure. No.
Fortunately, the smaller items include a few meaningful keepsakes, including many pictures and other curios I had never seen before (e.g., my grandma's engagement notice from 1939). My mom and my aunt were repeatedly moved to tears, and toward the end of the day, we all sort of lost it for a little bit.
For today, of course, was also the last time I will ever be at my grandmother's place. I remember staying over many times as a kid, with the window open in my mom and aunt's old bedroom, listening to the Brooklyn traffic honking below. I remember playing the piano with two fingers, and my grandmother insisting that I wait until later in the day, lest I wake the neighbors. (Not much chance of that.) I remember playing cards, and pushing the elevator buttons, and a hundred other tiny little things... and I guess the way these things work is, I always will.
All of this meant that I missed my scheduled run today. It just wasn't going to happen. It occurred to me today that although I have been pretty faithful about the running, and I actually feel pretty good, I haven't done much of the other stuff that people who are running marathons are probably supposed to do: biking, swimming, eating smartly, sleeping enough, pushups/situps, strength training, Pilates, whatever. I compensated for my feelings of inadequacy and confusion about my grandma by driving the rental van like a maniac, which scared the crap out of my brother (who was for some reason moved to remind me that his childhood car accident has given him a lifelong fear of car accidents). Plus, we had to avoid the parkways, which do not permit commercial traffic... although maybe we wouldn't have been considered "commercial" anyway. "Can we drive on the Belt?" my brother asked the U-Haul woman. She peered at us through her glasses. "I wouldn't." As it was, they ended up undercharging me by about $50. The single best experience I have ever had with U-Haul.
It also occurred to me that Sunday was actually a great day. Weather favored the funeral, and then, back at the house, we were surrounded by family and friends, including a lot of people I hadn't seen in forever. Normally I can't stand that kind of stuff, but Sunday, everything felt right, and in addition to everyone else, I was glad to see Scott and Jansen, who unfortunately were paying multiple shiva calls during their visit to the Island. Of course, Monday got to be a bit much, already, although my friends Dana and Mindy came by, which was really nice, and they brought cider, as opposed to ten more pounds of bagels or danish. (Oy gevalt.)
Today, after going through my grandma's possessions for two days, I'm a little overwhelmed. It's too much. Much as I have felt in the right place the past few days, I am eager to get back to Cambridge. Like my grandmother, I'm a pack rat, but now I'm thinking that I should go through my own stuff, so that if anything happens to me, no one has to do with my stuff what had to be done with my grandma's stuff. Of course, the first thing I'll have to do when I get back is to sort through the subset of stuff I just took from her house, which seems to me to be a bit of an irony, but one I appreciate.
Just got back from dinner at Ben's, a local-institution-type deli. ("We cure our own corned beef; our chicken soup cures everything else.") So many people sent us food platters from Ben's that they started to call and ask whether we really wanted so much food; my parents made some of the platters magically turn into gift certificates instead, which covered dinner. And, last night, my mom's friends ordered in Italian for us. Remember what I said above about not eating right? I guess it's OK for the sense of family and community to override the training, for once. *burp*
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