Lemonade

(Written Wednesday, August 10, 2022)

“My wife used to do this.” That was the end of my brief conversation with a mother and two young children staffing a lemonade stand on one of my usual walking routes. I broke out sobbing. I waived a thank you and had to walk away, not wanting them to witness my total breakdown. It took me a couple blocks and stopping in the shade to wipe my eyes and nose to compose myself enough to continue. I was, after all, about a mile and a half from home. It was the first time since Pam’s passing that I had seen a lemonade stand in the right place, at the right time, having my wallet with me, and was convenient (as in walking vs. driving). I asked the older girl the cost to which she answered fifty cents. I handed her a $5 bill and told her I didn’t want that much lemonade but she could keep the change. She stuffed the bill in her jar. It’s amazing how such things unleash the floods of emotion. Pam made the children so happy every time we stopped, and even went out of our way, to buy some lemonade.

I woke up almost refreshed this morning. Samsung Health gave my sleep a score of 65 out of 100. Not too bad. Not my best. Not my worst by far. Supposedly I fare well vs. other men in my age bracket whose average is 41/100. I usually beat that by a wide margin.

But it was downhill from there. I didn’t even get the Healing from Loss open before my wailing began. It only took looking at Pam’s pictures on the table next to me, trying to make sense of the fact that she is no longer here, to send me to places deep within me where the hurt resides.

I finally pulled myself together and accomplished my morning routine. Being a beautiful weather day, I decided it would be good to walk off some of my emotional stress. It took a lemonade encounter and over seven miles to bring me back home where my journey continues.

I always smile first when I look at Pam’s pictures. Then the other realization sets in. “This (too) is bullshit!”