The rock on which to sit and remember

All cancer is evil, but this weekend hit me like a Cat 5 hurricane as to how very evil pancreatic cancer is. We lost Alex Trebek after his almost two year fight to live with evil pancreatic cancer. And, I buried a piece of my heart on Saturday morning in the forest behind our home because of the evilness of pancreatic cancer.

Before heading to Wilmington for my monthly visit with Chip’s parents (I never intended to visit monthly, but it is turning out that way so far since Chip died and I’m so glad it’s working out that way), I had the company that mows our lawn come to our home to move a very large rock from our upper yard down to the part of the yard that is in the forest. There is a public path that cuts through that part of our yard. The path leads in one direction to the main road and, in the other direction, to a neighborhood that one can walk through to get to Wolf Trap Center for the Performing Arts. It took the crew leader, Daniel Vieira (a man with such a kind, gentle vibe), his crew of 6 men, and about 90 minutes of planning, problem solving and brute strength to move the rock carefully from up on the hill to the spot I chose for it in our lower yard alongside the public path.

Earlier on Saturday, I searched for a box to put some of Chip’s ashes in to bury under the rock so that if I ever sold the house, I could always walk along the public path, sit on the rock for a while and remember Chip and the life we shared. Sam offered me one of his small metal boxes, silver in color. Along with his ashes, I put a few small items in the box that I thought represented Chip well. I chose his “Best Friends of Bill Roth” lapel pin (to represent his years on Capitol Hill and his time working on the staff in US Senator William Roth’s office), one of his guitar picks, and a folded up sticker that read “Go See Live Music” that we got on a trip to San Francisco to celebrate the 25-year anniversary of JamBase, a website that “exists to connect music fans everywhere with the music they love” (Chip supported JamBase’s venture from its beginning). On top of the items, I scooped ashes out of his bigger urn and placed them in the box. I also wrote a quick love note on a neon green sticky note. The sticky note was the perfect size to cover the ashes and the items below it without having to fold it (I didn’t want to fold the note because wanted it to face completely upwards to Heaven).

When the rock was near the spot I had pointed out to Daniel, he knocked on my front door and informed me they were ready for me. I picked up the silver box and cupped it softly in my two hands. I carried it down the worn path that leads from our home to the forest below, with Daniel following closely behind me. The 6 other crew members stood waiting somberly.

Daniel dug a hole wide and deep enough in which to place the box. I pressed the box gently into the bottom of the hole and, not wanting to break down in front of the men, I left abruptly and ran up the hill on the worn path back to our home. Without me, they covered the box with earth and moved the huge rock over the hole.

I left for Wilmington without seeing the rock in its resting place. This morning, after returning from the gym, I went down the worn path to the forest. In the warm light of the rising sun on a warmer-than-usual fall day, I sat on the rock and thought how perfectly Daniel and his crew helped me realize part of my vision for honoring and remembering Chip and our life in Vienna. I surprised myself in the moment that I didn’t cry but, rather, felt compelled to take photos of the rock in its very important spot. With the sun behind me, I felt deeply connected to Chip with the shadows of my hand and my body on the rock.

After the calm, the storm of sadness came. It hit me as I thought more and more about Chip while sitting on the rock. I left the rock and ran up the hill path to the house, just as I had on Saturday morning in front of the crew. I entered the front door of the house, sat on the lowest step of the staircase going up to our second floor and sobbed. Sam came out of his room and down the stairs to me and hugged me tightly (Stella was already well into her virtual school day, with headphones on). I think I sobbed as hard as I did the morning that he died. Sam sat there with me, except for when he jumped up to get me a box of tissues from the kitchen. He seemed determined to sit there for as long as it would take until the moment of grieving passed. I have no idea how long we sat there. All I know is I’m so lucky to have him. He has been such a comfort since Chip passed nearly 6 months ago.

I will visit the rock often. Sometimes it may trigger sadness or devastation. Sometimes it will bring me joyful, beautiful memories of Chip. Sometimes I might just think about the weather or the forest and how it changes so amazingly during each season. Regardless, that enormous rock will be there for me, and anyone else who needs it from time to time, to sit on and remember the people and places that matter in life for as long as the earth exists.

Everlasting be his memory.