It doesn’t come out very often, this crazy love I have for my husband. I mention him from time to time as the ever-supportive, ever-silly sidekick but really, really he rocks my world. In late January he drove me to see my dying grandfather. We left last minute because we were told “he won’t live to see February.” We drove a total of eleven hours for what would end up to be a 40 minute visit; a visit with a man who didn’t have much to say. In mid March we made the trip again, same reason, “he doesn’t have much time.” This time we stayed for hours on end, watching this Kevlar man sleep and dream. Kisa never complained. Never kicked up a conniption. Just quietly gripped the wheel and kept driving and driving. Last week was the final goodbye. I subjected my husband to yet another eleven hour drive, then a funeral, a reception, and a smaller family gathering – all on the same day. And again, more driving. He drove us everywhere we needed to be. He was everything I needed him to be.
So, when I got the invitation to go to Kisa’s cousin’s bridal shower I couldn’t say no. Normally, I cringe at such displays of frilly frivolous. I balked at toilet paper brides and sickly sweet cupcakes perched on paper doilies. Watching someone open gift after gift after gift has never been high on the entertainment list. Not my thing. I didn’t have a bridal shower when I got engaged. We had a party in the park with music, grilling, and friends. No one sat around and watched me ooh and ah over lace panties and fondue kits.
But, but. But! When I think of Kisa, carting me and my mother around for hours on end; when I think of the funeral, the reception, the dreary family get-together, my mother’s snappish comments and stone cold silences, I know I need to kind of stone. I need to be supportive and stone steady, too.