The drive up to Paradise had its bumps, like Tony forgetting his wallet and realizing it after we'd already crossed the Bay Bridge so we had to turn around and go home for it. Talk about furious - me that is, although maybe him too after reading that I shared his memory lapse with the world! It got pretty heated in the car, from my seat, for the drive back home but then I took some deep breaths and told Tony that despite the fact that I was truly irritated about the wallet, the greater issue was that I didn't have a hold on my emotional state in anticipation of my aunt's memorial the next day. Big surprise...in that I was acting like a total bitch all morning, but not considering my loss. I've found in relationships - not just marriage - that as often as you think the other person should know exactly how you are feeling and therefore know exactly what you need that just isn't usually the case. And we always seem to get bent at the other person, in awe that they can't read our minds and don't have our personal instruction manual memorized so they can do exactly the right thing at the right time. So I had to lay it out for Tony, that I was hurting and freaking out and needed some extra love, support and understanding. It's a hard time for everyone involved.
Before too many miles passed I was feeling better and over the wallet snafu...maybe I was just distracted by the dissatisfaction of being in the car seat my daughter was now expressing at full volume. I wedged myself between the two car seats in the back seat, hoped for no sudden stops that would send me jettisoning out the car through the front windshield and paid some extra attention to Teagan trying to soothe her. We eventually pulled into the parking lot of the Sierra Nevada Brewery in Chico where we'd bought tickets for an Oktoberfest but then realized it was a strict 21+ event so had some half-baked plan to enjoy it in shifts while the other parent hung out with the kiddlings in the taproom restaurant. Yeah, exactly, didn't sound too fun. Lucky for us a couple friends were actually at the bar debating whether to buy tickets to the event so after telling them our sob story they bought them off us. So we enjoyed a family dinner & brews in the taproom restaurant, lamenting over the missed Oktoberfest but chocking it up to one of those parental sacrifices, and being ok with it. We checked into our hotel in Paradise around 9 and after a very frustrating face washing session (there was a friggin' kitchen sink faucet where the bathroom faucet should be, allowing only an inch of clearance from the flow of water to the edge of the sink!!) Tony & I each settled into our respective double beds with our respective child to sleep with.
Morning didn't come soon enough as I woke repeatedly from dreams I can't now recall and a living nightmare of Tyler rolling off his spot in bed with Tony and waking us all up crying. Poor guy. Thankfully he was ok, not like when he pulled the same stunt in a Hawaii hotel room last year and chipped his front tooth slightly! Makes me feel like we need to travel with bed railings! Anxious for a nice hot shower to wash away the bad night and prepare me for the emotional roller coaster the day would surely bring, my hopes were quickly dashed when I turned on the hot water and an abstract flow of fizz came out! The kind that is so thin, meaning there's so little water coming out I'd have never been able to wash my hair because it would take an hour just to get it all wet, then another to rinse the shampoo and another to rinse the conditioner. Then again, the water that was coming out had such force it practically stung. So bizarre. I didn't even turn on the cold water, I like my showers really hot and the water was definitely hot but there was so little of it. Maybe if I'd turned on the cold there would be more flow, but I settled for heat over quantity since I didn't have to wash my hair- thank god! I just stood there after washing my face & bod, arms folded in an X over my chest, hands in fists up under my chin, shoulders shrugged high, eyes closed, breathing deep and slow to relax my mind despite my tense body. I didn't want to get out even though it was truly the second worst shower I've ever had. I allowed myself a moment to recall THE worst shower ever...in a very cheap hotel in Rome which was the first stop with my best friend Dan on our little Euro trip of 1997. After stepping off the train from the airport, having no plans about where we were staying, we allowed a "Tourist Advisor" (who clearly worked for or was getting kick backs from the hotel we ended up at) to lead us to a place in our budget. Our budget was a joke as we had gotten the dirtiest dirt cheap airfare and could only make the trip happen on a shoestring given our ripe young ages of 22. The bathroom was down the hall and had to be shared with the other few rooms on the floor, although I don't recall seeing many other guests. The shower was like 2ft square, no kidding, with some rinky-dink plastic sliding doors that didn't actually slide since they were broken. There was some 1ft square hot water heated bolted to the wall above the shower and a pipe running down to the joke shower head that would hiss as it sprayed out water that felt like it was boiled on the sun...or maybe that was the hiss of my skin sizzling as the droplets of scalding hot water hit it. There was only boiling hot water or ice cold water, nothing in between, and regardless of the temp it only came out in that thin horrid spray. Cold water can burn too, esp. when the bathroom temp is below freezing also since it was January. I remember crying in the shower, trying to find peace with the water. There was no shelf to put your toiletries so you had to bend over to get them off the floor which you had to stand on in an awkward foot position as to avoid the nasty long hairs and curly hairs that were there when you stepped in but didn't have enough water pressure to wash away. Then of course you bumped your bum into the plastic door when you bent over which was cold and you swore would give you some sort of cootie from touching it. I remember hurrying back to our room wrapped in my towel, freezing and crying and warning Dan of the adventure awaiting him! Thankfully we only stayed there a few nights, although I wonder why we even stayed that long!
After getting coffee and a bagel with cream cheese to go at the little shop across from our hotel we headed up Skyway to the memorial location. As the narrow, windy road led us through the tall pines, I drank in the scenery that was like an old friend and imagined Nancy driving this road and loving the beauty and nature she lived in. There were memories for me every mile of the way, parks where my friends & I would hang out during lunch in high school, corner stores that were known to sell cigarettes to minors (I never smoked but some of my friends did), the 24hr cafe we would all hang out in after partying Friday or Saturday nights, the walking path I ran on to lose all my high school fat, etc. Of course those were just the high school memories and there were so many more since I'd been coming to Paradise since I was born to visit with my Uncle Chris & Aunt Nancy and their kids Matt & Julie. We turned down the rocky dirt road to Meadowbrook Ranch once we were north of town a ways, parked in the gravel lot and before we left the car I double checked that I had a new pack of tissues in the front pocket of the ergo carrier that I'd just loaded Teagan into. As we walked along the gravel path shaded by pines and surrounded by bushes of all sorts I could hear the faint sound of music and people's voices ahead, perhaps an Irish tune, very light and tinkly, the vibe emanating from both music and guests was of cheer. I walked slowly, enjoying the crunchy sound the gravel made under my feet, not in any rush to get to my destination, Tony & Tyler trailing behind me as Tyler drank in the nature so alien to him growing up in a concrete jungle. Suddenly at the end of the path ahead, not 40ft away, my cousin Matt appeared talking to someone who must have been an event worker. I wasn't sure if he saw me, I didn't wave, in fact I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face Tony &Tyler, sobbing and shaking suddenly. Tony either didn't know what to do for me or just didn't notice the frozen, scared, hurting state I was in. So without Tony rushing to hold and comfort me I got a grip quickly, turned back around and continued walking to the end of the path where tables were set up with food & flowers and people were mingling, hugging and catching up. A little girl I didn't recognize greeted us and pointed to a table for coffee and hot cocoa and another where we could sign a guestbook. Bypassing the hot liquids station we got in a short line of people waiting to sign the guestbook. There were also programs laid out on the same table, right at my fingertips now, announcing "Celebration of Life. Nancy Lynn Prestopino. December 13, 1943 - September 3, 2011." I picked one up and only half saw through the tears welling up and blurring my vision that old familiar infectious smile on Nancy's glowing face as she stood with the sun shining down on her scarf covered head, surrounded by gorgeous purple wisteria, her love of life absolutely beaming off the page. I heard a voice, my own, murmering "I can't do this" and shaking my head I walked into the field of wet, green grass where rows of chairs were set up, removed a tissue from my pocket and wiped away the tears streaking my face. I don't know if Tony signed the guest book, I never did, I had no idea what to say, there were no words, my signature was the absence of it. I'm sure Matt & Julie would understand.
I straightened myself up again just in time for another break of the dam, this time for Nancy's cousin Cathy, another non-blood relative of mine that shares a place in my heart and memories. We hugged a long time and then she put the long stem of a big, yellow-purple Dahlia in a utility loop of the ergo carrier on my left shoulder, her gestures and words of pleasure having perfectly adorned me with the flower reminding me so much of Nancy that the tears started all over again. Dahlias must have been my aunt's favorite flower, unless they were just what was in bloom and in abundance at the flower market that morning, for they were the event flower appearing everywhere and in every size and color. Even the port-a-potty was decorated with them - the little project Cathy was finishing up when I found her. Only at Nancy's memorial. Once the hundred or so of us were seated, the warm sun on our faces and the dew drying on the oak leaves, we heard the hauntingly beautiful sound of bagpipes as the solo bagpiper, dressed complete in a kilt, emerged moments after the sound of his pipes had begun in the distance, Amazing Grace bringing us all instantly to tears.
The next few hours flew by in a haze of tears, laughter, warmth, sorrow and resolve. Listening to Nancy's children tell the story of her life, some of which I knew and some I didn't, was like recalling a great movie. What a life! What a human being! Listening to guests recall stories of Nancy's antics, sense of humor, love of life and nature, grace and spirit were nothing short of 'wonderful' - a word Nancy used all the time. I can't even begin to recount all that I heard, learned and remembered from those few hours of the celebration of life. I cried a lot. Thankfully Teagan stayed asleep in the ergo carrier even though I stayed sitting down. Tony, dressed so handsomely in his suit, took care of watching out for Tyler who was running all over the field with the other kids his age - later we found out they all discovered the table full of chocolate and candy before any adult could stop them!! I did stand up at one point, to take a few moments at the podium myself. It wasn't planned at all but I was inspired and so shared a few of my own Nancy anecdotes. One of which was during an afternoon of play in front of the house in Paradise with us kids enjoying the big dirt pile which was there due to some construction. I may have been around 5, I'm guessing. I took my turn sliding down the dirt hill, only with a twist...face first...with my mouth open. I stood up at the bottom with a mouth full of dirt and a bit stunned. Nancy took one look at me and said "Wait! Don't move - I've gotta get my camera!" and so I waited, mouth full of dirt, for my Aunt Nancy to get her camera. She didn't take long and it's almost worth thanking her when you see the picture.
When the service concluded we all hung out a while amongst the trees and old friends. We ate and drank... some of us didn't eat but drank a lot ;) There was a line of photo boards hung for everyone's viewing delight, sneaking peaks into Nancy's life over the years. I spied myself, as well as my sister, mother and father, in several of them and smiled, pausing to take myself back to the moment of the snapshot, if I was able. I was entranced by many of the pictures of Nancy as a young woman, pictures I'd never seen before but now wanted to blow up, frame and hang in my home as a constant reminder of how one should live their life.
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