Road Trip

Dear UD,

Taking a road trip with you is better than all the travels in the world.

2006, Lexi and Laina, young girls, giggle in the backseat while you drive with me in the passenger seat.

Like the time when you taught 16-year-old me how to drive. Then, my siblings Sonny and Britt and Amanda sat in the backseat with me in the front passenger seat. Both then and now, we ride curves, glide up and down hills, traveling between the Crawford farm nestled in the Bible-belt of the Ozark Mountains and the Cunningham farm or your welcoming house, both near the greater Kansas City area.

Then, you offered driving tips, advice on how to drive, or how NOT to drive, as we later laughed about when, on that road trip, you missed the sharp turn sign indicating a 90 degree turn and plowed the rental car straight onto the gravel road, into the ditch, landing against the barbed wire fence. Luckily, everyone was fine, and we piled back into the car, driving the dented rental all the way.

Then, we talked bookshelves and jungle gyms (you built for the family), Chuckles (the bean bag throw game that Grandpa Bruce made and you delivered), family stories, garden harvest, and driving tips.

Now, we’re in your light blue 2006 Ford Taurus, sailing the curves and hills between family farms. On this road trip, we talk Broadway shows and musicals in between listening to the Wicked and Into the Woods original Broadway cast recordings. After each number, you pause the CD and interpret the lines for us, and we discuss characters and themes. I know in this moment that I will always remember these road trips with you, these discussions with you, these lessons and learning.

Years later, Lexi, Laina, and I saw Wicked off Broadway, and more years later, Pippin on Broadway. Throughout the years, we’ve watched the movie versions of various musicals from Oklahoma, Singing in the Rain, Holiday Inn, White Christmas, and Annie Get Your Gun to Grease, Hairspray, Billy Elliot, The Court Jester, Mamma Mia, Chicago, Jersey Boys, Newsies, Phantom of the Opera, to Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, Mulan, Cinderella, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Aladdin, and Anastasia. And so on. Plus, we’ve attended local productions of shows such as The Man of La Mancha and Fiddler on the Roof.

On December 31^st, 2014, we decided to celebrate Lexi’s 20^th birthday at your house; this time the three of us took another road trip between family farms, and that evening, we went to the movies with you, Britt, and Sean to watch Into the Woods. What a thrill to see the story you shared with us so long before come to life on the big screen! Four months later, you left this world, so that was the last movie we would have a chance to see with you. I wish we could see more, but I’m glad the last one was a Broadway musical. And I’m glad that we played Broadway that night, the board game that you created, another memory, another connection.

Uncle David, without you, I doubt we would have our love of musicals and all things Broadway, and I am so grateful to you for teaching us, through musicals, about life and literature and living and loving.

2018, everyone’s talking about Hamilton, and remembering our road trips, I bought the original Broadway cast recording. It arrived this week and sits, unopened, on my dining room table. I am excited to listen to it and explore the story, and at the same time, I wish you were here to listen to it with me, interpret the lines, and tell me the story.

So many things you taught me, but you did not “Teach me how to say goodbye” (Alexander Hamilton, “The World Was Wide Enough”).

But what you did teach, I promise to pass on. This summer, I will take a road trip, play the Hamilton CD, and share it with someone else.

“Legacy. What is a legacy? It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see”- Alexander Hamilton, “The World Was Wide Enough.”

UD, your legacy lives on in the lives of your loved ones, and we are all the richer for it.

Love, Rach

Holiday Blues

Dear UD,

I stand here, looking at the next month and a half, and I am paralyzed. All that’s left of 2015 is the holiday season, and for us, that means my birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Lexi’s 21^st birthday and New Year’s Eve, not to mention several other family birthdays.

Flip the calendar back one year and the landscape changes drastically. 

A year ago today, I prepared for our much anticipated trip to visit Lexi, and in many ways, you were part of my unforgettable birthday celebration and our adventures in Manhattan. We experienced a NYC Thanksgiving, five people and a toddler scrunched around the table in a kitchen the size of a closet. Dinner was delicious, and the whole day was lovely and perfect. That evening after watching a movie in plush recliners, we walked to 85^th street and took pictures of the apartment where you lived for years, right on the edge of Central Park.

A year ago, we planned and packed, selling or donating most of our furniture to return home for the holidays. Christmas on the farm with family, surrounded by loved ones. Photographs with Dad for the last time. Huge meals, stockings and presents around the Christmas tree, kids jumping on the trampoline in the cold, games of Spades, Bridge, Cribbage, and Scrabble, 10 siblings, 20 cousins. 

A year ago, Lexi’s 20^th birthday and New Year’s Eve celebrations with you and Britt. You treated us to opening week of Into the Woods at the movie theater, and we all loved it. Afterwards, we ate birthday cake and played Broadway around your dining room table until the ball dropped. We clinked glasses, sipped our sparkling apple cider, and welcomed in the New Year with kisses and hugs. Love and laughter. The first day of 2015, we woke up to family and you, cooking omelets for each of us.

I didn’t know then that it would be the last movie with you, the last time we’d play the game you created. I didn’t know then that Dad would be gone in just four days. Yes, he was on hospice. Yes, he was shrinking and struggling for breath, but he hid how bad the pain was, and we thought we had more time. More time with him and definitely more time with you. I didn’t know then that you would leave us, suddenly, near the end of April.

Last holiday season….so many memories that I cherish. I look back and smile.

I look forward and weep. How do we move forward into this first holiday season after such loss?

Just yesterday, someone mentioned decorating Christmas trees, and suddenly, I remembered the I love NYC ornament that I bought for you last November and gave you last year for Christmas. Gut-punched, I realized that you would never get the chance to put it on your tree.

I talked to a sister and cousin, both also missing you so much. The prospect of putting together a family calendar without you is unthinkable. How do we do this?

Instead of Christmas songs, I’ll put on some Muddy Waters and B. B. King. Eric Clapton and Etta James will sing me a bedtime lullaby. And, I’ll think of you and Dad.

The activities, the busyness, I can do that. I can continue on, do the traditions, but the emotional part, the joy and peace and love that belongs to this season, I don’t see how I can get there this year.

What I can do is choose my focus.

A new baby in the extended family, and what a sweet blessing.

A sister off the streets, on a bus headed home for the holidays.

Gracie, a calico kitten, purred and bounced her way into my sister’s home. 

My daughters, intelligent and talented, bold and beautiful—together for this holiday season. 

So, I reach my way through paralysis and take a small step.

UD, I will sing a song for you and Dad, raise a toast to you, play a game you taught me, think of you…always.

Love, Rach