Chapter 57: Trusting the Timing?
Today was another significant day in the calendar of seemingly never-ending significant days. Beautiful Eleanor, the doyen of Denver Main Branch was fair welled today. The postal community gathered to show our respect for a wonderful woman. Listening to Oliver's beautiful eulogy for her, I felt a little like a tiny boat cast adrift on a vast ocean, battered by waves and unable to approach the shore. Or something like that. Oliver's speeches can sometimes cause me to mentally ramble. All I know is that I felt sad and absolutely out of my depth.
I know that my focus should have only been on Eleanor – and I certainly tried to give her my attention. My thoughts, however, took a number of unwelcome twists. I felt embarrassed for my selfishness. I hadn't given Eleanor the attention she deserved. I would call her an admired colleague, but think I missed someone who could have been a good friend.
Oliver told me once that I had a family that I should embrace. He was right. The postables were my 'band of brothers (and sister)'. That did not mean that some days I didn't long for my real family. Eleanor's passing made me confront other people I had lost. My biological family that I had scattered, hoping that that would spare me hurt. Rather than protection, had I in fact brought myself more hurt through my own actions?
Alex and I had been not only sisters, but also the best of friends. Once her addiction and the hurt she caused our mother became known, I always felt righteous in my anger towards her. Sitting in that church today, I felt the beginning of doubt. Had I turned my back on her when she needed me? All of my rage at Alex over her treatment of Mum hadn't made me a better daughter … one able to be there when Mum needed me. Had I let our mother down like Alex had?
My head was pounding as I finally turned to my thoughts to my unfixable loss. While there was still some hope that I could repair relationships with Mum and Akex, nothing I could be would bring me any closer to Dad. I did abandon him, and now could only picture his face when I recalled one of the few photographs I have of him. I can no longer recall the sound of his laugh, or the strength of his hugs. It was almost as if he had been reduced to the small collection of belongings I have that were once his – a Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass LP, a mother of pearl tie-clip and some outdated camping gear. I emerged from inside my head as the service ended, only to wish that I had stayed there a little longer to escape another helping of embarrassment over the wonderfulness of Oliver's good friend, Dale Travers. I hear you say you are friends, Oliver, but I am not sure that the lovely and a bit too touchy-feely Agent Travers agrees!
After Eleanor's service ended, I told Oliver that I needed a minute. I actually needed several. Being in a church, having listened to not only lovely words of remembrance but also some truly inspirational music, I thought that maybe I should give the church thing a go. I sat. I closed my eyes. I tried. I don't know…. I just felt quite ridiculous. How did this prayer happen? All I could focus on was how hard the seat way, and how much I wanted lunch. What an absolute failure.
Giving up on a spiritual enlightenment, I made my way to the Mailbox Grille. For such a jolly lady, Eleanor's wake was a little too somber. Actually, maybe that was just me. I just couldn't get passed the regrets that filled my mind. I mean, I think I actually gave Oliver the impression that I wasn't really interested in our upcoming date! I am, but I think that it is not the most important thing right now. That was went it hit me… I had lost my dad. I couldn't bring him back. If Oliver was not careful, he could suffer the same fate. I was determined that he would not.
After a panicked phone call to Joe, I raced home to put the next part of my plan in motion. Joe and Oliver needed to rebuild their relationship. They had missed so much already. So what if I was going to miss a date with Oliver? There would be others – I had to believe that.
Oliver accused me of attempting to send him to camp. I know he was trying to be humorous, but he had no idea where my mind went with that innocuous comment. I had this daydream, in which I was sending a little mini-Oliver to camp (and he was hating every minute of it). What was I thinking? Oliver and I couldn't even complete a single date without creating havoc and here I was considering children? I am not even sure I want children! I mean, even if we did actually ever have a relationship, but the time it actually happened, I would probably be too old for motherhood anyway. Good grief! Snap out of it Shane!
Shane. My goodness. The trashy novels I sometimes spend holidays with often describe the heroine going weak at the knees after a look, a touch, or a kiss. I had always assumed that was absolute hooey! Turns out, it is a thing.