Serendipity 21: Tragedy

XXI − Tragedy

And so, I returned home, to Houston, to resume my normal life. Except, of course, for the almost daily calls to my great-grandson. Okay, at the age of one month, he's not much of a conversationalist, so I end up talking with Lauren and Matt. Oh -- did I tell you? My neighbor Bill put that Skype (I learned that I had been spelling it wrong) program on my computer, so now I could "Skype" -- yes, it's a verb, too -- with my great-grandson and his parents (they have the program too, like it seems almost everyone in the world does now).

In early-February, the phone rang. I looked at the number and saw that it was from Ted's and Candace's area code, so I picked up immediately. It was Candace and Ted, of course, calling to share the wonderful news that they'd had baby Shana, and she was beautiful and wonderful and doing well. And with their typical generosity, they asked if I would be her "honorary grandmother." Of course, I couldn't say yes fast enough.

While I was on the phone with them, I was interrupted by the "call waiting" bleep. A quick look at the number let me know that it was Lauren, so I said a hasty goodbye and one more batch of "Congratulations!" and "We love you!" to Candace and Ted, and then picked up the other line. Lauren was also calling with the news about Ted's and Candace's new baby, and how the baby was healthy and doing well. Candace was having some problems, but nothing serious. We talked for a while longer, excited about Candace and Ted's new baby, but also about my own brilliant great-grandson, who I was sure would be off to college in a mere 18 years!

And my life went on like that.

Until the call ...

It was Candace. She had a brain tumor. There was no treatment. She probably had less than a year.

Simply, I was too shocked to react.

But this was not the call of a young woman who was facing a tragic death. This was the call of a mother who was working to make sure that her family would be taken care of.

"Georgia, I know this is an incredible thing to ask , and I can understand if you say no, but, ... would you consider coming up here and taking care of the children ... for as long as ...?

"I know that you love them, and you certainly know that they love you. But this would mean that your life would change completely, and not just for a few months or a year, but maybe ... forever." And she stopped.

"Candace,..." I took some time -- for me to take it all in, for my head to stop spinning, "I understand what you're ... proposing. And I want to say yes so badly. But this is a huge thing, and I want to be absolutely certain before I make any promises. So, can I have 24 hours to think about it, ... to think things through?"

"Of course -- we wouldn't expect anything less. And there's absolutely no pressure, we don't have any right to expect anything from you, but you know that Ted and I love ... you know how we feel about you, and that won't change no matter what you decide to do."

"I'll call you, Candace." I hung up quickly.

Then I cried. I cried so hard my body shook. I don't think I've hurt so badly since my Sofia ...

I knew I had to talk with Lauren. But first, I needed a glass of brandy. And maybe a second glass.

"Lauren, sweetheart, I just got a call from Candace."

Lauren immediately sensed from the tone of my voice that it was not the good kind of call. I explained the situation, and then I told her about Candace's request.

Lauren understood -- everything -- as I knew she would.

"Georgia, that's an enormous request, and an enormous responsibility. Anyone who says yes would be agreeing to change their whole life -- to give up their current life completely and start a new one -- for years, possibly forever."

"I know, Sweetheart."

"What do you think you want to do?"

"I want so badly to say yes, but it's like you said -- I'd be permanently giving up my current life. Not that my current life is so ... It's just that it's a scary thought. And what's also scary is the commitment I'd be making to Candace -- and to the children -- and to Ted, too, I guess."

"You're right, Georgia, it would be an enormous commitment to Candace and the children." Then she paused for a few seconds. "But can you think of anyone else in the world better than you to make that commitment?"

"That's exactly what I've been thinking. Thank you, Sweetheart -- Lauren, you can't believe how much I love you."

"I love you, Grandma, so much."

I called Candace back with my answer, and we agreed that we would make more detailed arrangements as time went on. Then she said, "About Teddy. I'm not going to ask for any promises, and I'm certainly not going pressure you to do something you don't want to do. But in his whole life, you're the only other woman he's ever looked at. He loves Lauren and Janey like they were his own sisters, but with you ... he looks at you with total -- 'admiration' is the only word I can think of. And if you decided you wanted to be with each other, you'd both have my blessing."

From anyone else, such a proposal would have been difficult to take seriously, but from Candace, I knew she had thought about it carefully, and it was from both her heart and her head. I didn't make any other promises, but I assured her that I would care for the children and be there for Ted.

And then I cried.

The months passed, and I tried to pretend -- to deny the inevitable. Wrong diagnosis. Miracle cure. All a bad dream ...

The facts, however, did not change.

********

I can't bring myself to talk about the time around Candace's death. Lauren phoned me, I flew up from Houston, as we agreed, and she and Matt and Jane and Ben drove me ...

I don't want to talk about it.

********

Now, after all this time, none of us really knows. When she arranged for me to spend those weeks with her children -- and with her husband -- did Candace have some premonition of what was to come?

Or perhaps, being Candace, she was simply making an emergency plan -- a backup, a "plan B," in case anything should ever happen, and she wanted to be sure that her children, and her beloved Teddy, would be taken care of.

God help me, I miss that little girl every day.

********

One of the things we had talked about "before" was where we would live. Matt and James found a place in their building, one whose owner was retiring to Arizona but still wanted to keep his condo unit as a rental property. So a month or so after Candace's death (I still cry, just writing those words), Lauren arranged for the real estate and relocation division of her financial services company to buy Candace's and Ted's house and arrange our move into the condo. Matt and Ben also arranged office space and facilities in Matt's company so Ted would be able to continue his graphic design business from there without having to worry about the practical details.

We also knew that this was only an "interim" solution -- for all of us. All told, we had eight adults and five growing children, with some pretty co-mingled family lives. We had talked about this for some time, and finally, later that year, we sold "our" condos (actually, James and Matt and Janey and Lauren sold their condo, and Ted and the children and I moved out of the unit he'd been renting) and we all moved into two houses, in a new development in one of the older Western suburbs. The schools were good, and we were able to find both houses that were within our means. Lauren and Matthew and little Paul, James and Mai, Jane and Ben and Christiana shared a six-plus bedroom house with lots of bathrooms -- a McMansion, true, but it fit their needs, with lots of room to grow, if necessary.

Ted and the children and I moved into in a four-bedroom ranch-style house on the other side of the cul-de-sac from Lauren's and Matthew's and James's house. Eddie had the smallest room, and Caleen and Shana shared the larger one. I lived in what would normally be the "master" bedroom, while Ted slept in the fourth bedroom, which doubled as an office when he worked from home. Our children were together constantly.

********

Caleen was worried about her daddy.

Shana was barely a year old when Mommy died, and she missed the first Mommy for a while, but she quickly took to the affections of the new Mommy, Nonna Georgia (which she could almost say now -- "Nona-ja").

Eddie knew that Mommy got really sick, and that she died, and he knew that they'd never be able to see Mommy again. But Nonna Georgia came "a tow'sand miles" -- he wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew it must mean a very long way away -- to be their new Mommy, and she loved them and looked after them like their first Mommy did, so everything would be OK.

Caleen somehow understood it was more complicated than that. Her friend's mommy had died almost two years ago, and they still didn't have a new mommy, so Caleen knew that when a mommy dies, a new mommy doesn't magically appear to take over and be the mommy.

Mommy had explained to Caleen that Mommy and Daddy loved Nonna Georgia, and that's why Mommy asked Nonna Georgia to come and take care of them and be their Mommy, maybe. And because Nonna Georgia loved Mommy and Daddy and Eddie and Shana and her, Nonna Georgia said yes.

Caleen also understood that Nonna Georgia had changed her whole life and had left her home and moved all the way from Houston -- that's in Texas, which is a state that's far away -- to be with them. And it wouldn't be like that one time when she came to visit, but maybe now to stay with them forever.

She also sensed that while Nonna Georgia and Mommy and Daddy loved each other, Nonna Georgia loved Daddy in a different way from the way she loved Mommy.

She hoped that the way Nonna Georgia loved Daddy would help him so he wouldn't feel so sad about Mommy.

********

"Daddy, are you going to be happy again?"

That's what Caleen asked her father, five months after their mother had died.

"What do you mean, Honey -- Daddy's happy."

"I don't think you are, Daddy. At least, not happy like you used to be when Mommy was here. I remember, you and Mommy used to bounce up and down on each other in the bed, and then you'd come out you'd both be smiling a lot and you'd hug and kiss Eddie and me, and everyone would be happy. And you haven't been like that in a long time."

"Honey, I miss your Mommy -- a lot, and no, I haven't been happy like that since she ... went away." (He still couldn't bring himself to use the word. Even though the children knew that Mommy had died, and all the implications of that, Ted was still unable to say the word when he talked with them.) "But don't worry, Sweetheart, I'll be happy again. Maybe not exactly like I was when Mommy was here, but Daddy'll be happy again -- don't worry."

Then, with the simple insight and the innocent directness that children have, Caleen asked, "Daddy, if you and Nonna Georgia bounced up and down on each other in bed the way you did with Mommy, do you think you'd be happy again?"

And that stopped Ted cold. Because he understood all the issues that were wrapped up in that single, naïve observation by his daughter. Yes, Daddy had not experienced that kind of happiness in a very long time; and he was not sure if he ever would again.

Then, there was his daughter's equally naïve solution -- she knew that Daddy and Nonna Georgia liked each other a lot, and that if she and Daddy bounced up and down on each other, that maybe Daddy could be happy again.

Ted put his arms around his daughter and pulled her against him and held her, and buried his face in her hair that smelled of Johnson's Baby Shampoo and allowed himself to shed a few tears into that warm, soft hair. "Thank you for thinking about Daddy, Honey, and I'll try to be more happy for you and Eddie and Shana -- I promise.

Ted found himself back at his home-office desk -- he didn't exactly remember going there. But he didn't even make a pretense of working. At a time when he should be worrying about his children, his four-year-old daughter was worried -- as deeply-worried as a four-year-old can be -- about him. He had to get his shit together -- there was no doubt about that. He couldn't have his children worrying about him. Period.

Then there was Caleen's final question: Would he be happy again if he and Nonna Georgia bounced on each other in bed?

********

One night, nearly six months after Candace died, the children had been put to bed and I had just turned off the bedside lamp when there was a soft, tentative knock on the door.

I turned the light back on. "Yes?" Ted opened the door and stepped in hesitantly. I managed to summon up a smile, and I turned back the covers. "Come in, Darling."

That first night, there was nothing to say. I don't know what Ted had intended on doing, but what he did was simply fall into my arms, and I pulled his head to my breasts, and we cried. He cried for Candace, and for himself. And I cried for Candace, and for Ted's pain.

The next night, he again came to my room. He knocked, I told him to come in, he got into the bed with me. And like the night before, we cried, but this time, not as much.

The third night, there was no crying. Instead, we just held each other, and we understood where life had brought us. And we understood that it was up to us, now, to begin the future.

What about the sex?

Not terrifically exciting. We came together like two people after a tragedy -- which we were. We knew each other's bodies, of course, but the sex was more communion than it was lust, or even love. But I'm not sure that I've ever had any sex that was more meaningful than those nights when Ted and I were finding each other, and finding our way.

For about a month after he began coming to "my" room, he would force himself to wake up in the morning and return to his office-bedroom. I think he was afraid of making some kind of implicit commitment to Caleen and Eddie that he -- that we -- were not yet ready to make.

However, life sometimes takes things into its own hands. It was a Saturday morning, and Ted and I had stayed up rather late, talking, watching TV companionably -- and making love -- and Ted forgot to wake himself up and go back to his room. I guess the children got up and, not finding Daddy in his bedroom, came to Nonna Georgia's room.

Still lying there, half awake, we heard those little voices, saying those words that had not been said in so very, very long.

"It's Caleen and Eddie and Shana -- can we come in?"

And that, simply, is when life resumed.

Ted looked at me. We smiled at each other, and he said, "We'd like it very much if Caleen and Eddie and Shana came in."

And they did, in a rush, with all the force of a cuddly tidal wave in Underdog pajamas. Caleen had to help Shana up onto the big bed, and we all poked, and tickled, and pinched, and tickled some more -- and we laughed.

And, yes, Caleen's Daddy was happy again.

********

It wasn't long afterward that something else happened.

We were all sitting in the living room, settling in to watch a movie, when Ted said, "I think the children have something they want to ask you." Then, to Eddie, "Do you want to ask Nonna Georgia something?"

Adorable little Eddie, three years old now, moved forward half a step and said, "Caleen and Shana and Daddy and I want to know if it would be OK if we call you 'Momma' now?"

I held myself together just long enough to say, "Of course you can -- I'd love it if you all call me 'Momma'." I leaned forward and scooped them all together in my arms and buried my face in their hair to hide my tears, which were silently pouring down my cheeks. I turned my head away from the children to look toward Ted. Through the tears, I could only mouth the words, "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, Ted -- I love you so much!"

I don't know how well Ted could see me, what with his own tears. I guess he saw enough, though.

********

It was something I finally had to talk about. And my granddaughter was the person I needed to talk about it with.

I went across the cul-de-sac to their house on a Saturday morning, with the excuse of having coffee together. We chatted about the usual, but Lauren sensed that there was something on my mind. She stopped talking and waited, until I finally said,

"I talked with your grandfather last night."

Lauren waited.

"I told him that there's this man, and he's good, and kind ... and a terrific lay" -- a smile here -- "and he has these three magical children ... and he loves me."

"What did Grandpa say?"

"He said that I should, and that we had his blessing."

"Well, you always said that Grandpa Art was the smartest man you ever knew."

********

One month later, Ted and I were married. And for the first time since I was nineteen years old, I wasn't Mrs. Arturo Genisi -- I was Mrs. Edward T. Schmidt, Jr.

Arthur said he liked it -- he thought the old name was starting to sound "too ethnic."