Chasing After What

We drove down to Florida over February break. The trip had been planned on the back burner for months. I was ignoring it for it was to be the first time we'd be at my father-in-law's house since he passed away. It was liver cancer. Diagnosis one month; dead the next.

Our last conversation is eternally etched in my memory. I don't even have to close my eyes to hear him uttered that heartfelt line, "I never thought I'd love an Italian." To which I tearfully replied, "It's worse, I'm Sicilian."

And so, we returned to an empty but very full house. Empty, for we were not greeted by a happy old man dressed in minimal shorts and sandals. And full because all that remained of him was still there. Some boxed up by my sister-in-law, and placed in neat piles scattered about the living room and florida room. Each with a name on it; a destination of the soul, a place for the memories to rest.

When we walked into the house the air was hot. The girls ran from room to room. At first they seemed hopefully. Maybe that memorial service was for someone else. Twenty minutes later, they found the pile of boxed up toys. "Can we play with the doll beds and dolls?"

We were there for a short week; truly only 4 days. If they were destined to go to another family, we'd repack them before we left. I set up the little play set, right in the middle of the living room. Exactly where it had stood so many times before. The girls played just like they had so many times before. Somethings don't change.

While we were their I looked through his cook books, record albums and photo albums. I sat in his chair. We played all the games on the game shelf. As in years past, I cooked, and cleaned up; standing at the kitchen sink and looking out upon the citrus trees. For years, they produced tons of fruit; lemons, grapefruit, three different types of oranges. Now most of the trees had died. It's as if they knew their master was longer there to tend to them.

In years past, Pepere would load us down with fruit. Smiling I would take it, all the while wonder who was going to eat all this. In years past, a few pieces would be eaten, but the majority of it was stashed in the bottom of the refrigerator and left there to rot. This year as we packed up to leave I said, "I'm going to get some grapefruit." My husband looked at me. He'd seen me roll my eyes at the huge boxes of fruit we had trucked North before. "Just a few. I want to seeds to grow a tree."

"In New England?"

"I'll keep it inside." Close to my heart. So it can hear it's master saying, "I never thought I'd love an Italian."

There's only a half of grapefruit left. I wonder who will be lucky enough to eat it.