My children know that there are certain things mom does not do. Mom does not act silly. Mom does not do extreme sports. And Mom does not ride rollercoasters. Yet once a year when Mom escapes for 3 days with 5 of her best friends from High School, they are forced to conclude that it’s not that Mom can’t do those things, she just chooses not to. I come home not only with pretty toenails and stories of icecream and late night movies, but outrageous details of off road mountain biking, hiking in Zion’s National Park, cave spelunking at night wearing headlamps, and skiing black diamond slopes. And it doesn’t matter where we go or what we do, we laugh. A lot. The participants are all delighted with the evolution of the girls trip. Long gone are the days that we left short novels of typed agendas for our husbands to follow. A post it note with emergency numbers now suffices. With Kevin it didn’t ever really matter how many instructions I left. He did what all moms fantasize of doing - throwing out all scheduled activities, including school. He would load up the kids and the next phone call I received would be from the middle of a Joshua Tree campground. But last year Kevin had different plans. He informed me moments before stepping out the door for my three days of freedom that he was going in for a little “procedure” to investigate why his back hurt so badly. He assured me that he could drive himself, no anesthesia was involved, and yes, he would be home before the kids got home from school. Three days later when I walked back in the door feeling “recharged,” my life changed forever. Kevin told me that the “procedure” was in fact a biopsy which confirmed the cancer had returned. First reaction - livid. I was so upset that he had withheld this information from me and so guilt ridden (2nd reaction) that he had carried the burden of this news privately for 3 days. (3rd reaction - devastated) I soon recognized that allowing me to go on that girls trip was perhaps one of the kindest and most unselfish things Kevin ever did for me. It might have been the last time I laughed.
So now it’s time again for the annual girls trip. My mom flew in to watch my kids so I could escape to . . .Disneyland! I suppose my friends thought a new widow and “the happiest place on earth” was a good combination(?) Knowing my fear of rollercoasters, Ben asked me, “What are YOU going to do?” I wasn’t worried. I am very happy waiting and watching others torture themselves. A day at Disneyland without children? There was no whining, crying, complaining, or “how much longer?” There were still probably just as many restroom stops, but no one needed to be reminded to wash their hands. We were indifferent to the length of lines as conversations remained uninterrupted whether standing, waiting, walking, or even riding. The finale of the day was to be Space Mountain. There was no pressure, prodding, teasing, or begging from my friends to join them. Only acceptance. I wouldn’t have expected anything different. These are the same friends who I can honestly say never put me in a situation I didn’t want to be in during the tumultuous years of high school. Maybe that’s why I decided to join them. Maybe I didn’t want to sit through Captain EO again while I was waiting. Maybe I had a momentary lapse of good judgement. Whatever the reason, I climbed aboard. The ride started and the scream that escaped my throat could hardly be described as human. When I stopped screaming just long enough to take a breath I heard the friend sitting next to me say, “this is actually kind of fun.” “Could this actually be fun?” I wondered . .right before the ride catapulted into louder, darker, and faster. The ride is all one big black and white blur. I vaguely recall profanity flying from my lips but either it was absorbed by the deafening noise of the ride or my friends were laughing too hysterically to hear it because they made no mention of it. I survived and emerged triumphant - my children’s hero.
I can’t think of better friends to ride Space Mountain with. Together we’ve survived and supported one another through a lot of ups and downs - disappointments, divorce, the loss of a parent, a child, and most recently, a spouse. These are the friends who flew in for Kevin’s funeral, then packed up all of the photos and Kevin paraphernalia, and took it all back to display in Salt Lake City for the repeat performance. They embody the very best qualities, but the thing I appreciate and love the very most about them . . .they make me laugh. Maya Angelou said, “My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry.” Not me. I hope to laugh much, much more than I cry. Stepping off that rollercoaster, I knew I had achieved what I thought to be impossible a year ago. . . .I laughed.
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| Sheer Terror |
