Good news: I’m out of touch with reality. I’m safe in my home in Kona. I am happy to be able to continue writing. Brenda Nelson brought over my dinner.
Bad news: Since I’m not in touch with reality, nothing.
I had big plans for today. There were things to take care of before I boarded the plane at 2:25 pm to go back to Kona.
Yvette and I got up and the usual time. I had slept very well. Yvette reported having some nightmares and didn’t sleep so well. We got up, showered, and went to have breakfast. My appetite seems to be repressed. Good. I’ll probably do a 180 at some point and feel I can’t get enough food. My body is preparing for the feast (none stop nervous eating) to come.
Fortunately, I called my Turo guy yesterday to tell him about the damage to the car. I finally got that over with. He told me there were things I had to do: get the car cleaned and get the tank filled with gas. Didn’t I remember the list he sent me? No. I consider myself lucky that I remembered how I got the rental at all. Damon had helped me ordering it, and Shivani helped me pick it up. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for their help. They were determined to see me safely settled before they left. Wonderful!
I had taken pictures of the damage to the car and sent them to him. Yvette thinks the damage is so minor it can be buffed out by a detailer. Maybe, maybe not.
We left around 9:30 to get the car washed. We had to go to Waikiki to the one Kevin, the Turo guy, had recommended. It wasn’t far, and it went smoothly. When we got back to the ashram, we ate some lunch and then loaded the car. Govinda helped us carry our baggage from the cabin to the car. We got to the drop of location, Kevin’s house, in plenty of time. Kevin wasn’t even home yet when we got there. He told us he would be there later, but we wanted to make sure we left plenty of time to get stuck in Honolulu’s traffic. Nine miles an hour can be a good speed at rush hour.
While Yvette and I were sitting in the parked car waiting, a woman drove up and asked us why we were sitting in front of her house. When Kevin came home, he told us the neighbors were pretty pissed with him because he was managing 37 (thirty-seven) cars. Some of which were always parked on the street in his tightly packed suburban neighborhood. Can’t exactly blame the neighbors. He said he started doing this with one car part-time and developed it into his full-time job.
When he looked at the damage, he said it wasn’t bad. I bought extra insurance because I don’t like to be messing with these things after I am through with the car. He also took a look at the mirror and was able to fix it himself. No worries. He’ll be in touch with me over the other problems. Then he drove us to the airport for free. This pretty much covered whatever I spent on the car wash. Even a 12-minute ride from his house would have cost us a good $30.
Yvette and I got our tickets, checked our luggage, and headed for the security line. I blissfully walked along, assuming Yvette was right behind me. When I got to the line, the maze which was on the outside of the building was empty where it had been full to overflowing when we passed it before. I finally turned around. No Yvette. Did I lose another important person? I turned to leave the maze and find Yvette. Still no Yvette. The guard told me to keep moving through the line. I told her that I had lost someone. She said, “Huh?” I said it louder; she yelled, “Don’t yell at me.” Great.
Finally, Yvette showed up. She had stopped to organize what she was carrying. She looked somewhat like a Sherpa with her load. She had to carry more than her fair share because of my bad back. We started back through the empty maze. Another section of the labyrinth had been opened, allowing people to get online before us. We moved to the end of that group. Then this security guard came along with some part of her bent out of shape. She yelled at people that they were going through the wheelchair access part of the line, and we all had to go downstairs with her. Yvette and I both protested because we had gone through the line correctly. We refused to go with her. The more I think about it, the weirder that whole situation was. Did she take those people downstairs? Baggage was downstairs. Security was downstairs. I hate to think what happened to those poor people. I had visions of them being detained on suspicion of something and missing their planes.
After that, going through the security line went quickly. Between us, we had two carry-ons apiece, and Honolulu Elsa, a good-sized stuffed teddy bear, which was the closest I could get to our small white dog at home who Mike loved and who loved Mike to bits and pieces. I couldn’t bring the real Elsa over; Mike made due. We were surprised; the check in-attendant said nothing about that extra piece of “luggage.” When we got on the plane, we had our answer. It was ¾ empty.
The flight was easy; the landing was rough. Picking up the luggage was easy, but it wasn’t so easy for Yvette to find a place curbside so we could load the car. She had to go around twice. I actually stood in the parking spot and shooed folks away, saying, “I’m not moving.”
Walking in the house was easier than I expected. The living space of our house is never closed off from nature. As a result, I didn’t feel confined and isolated. I still felt part of the larger world. Also, Mike has been preparing me for time alone with all his trips off the island to Honolulu and the mainland. Being alone in the house was not completely unfamiliar. Neither does it signal that Mike will never be with me again. Reality can wait.
Brenda, a friend of Mike’s and mine, came over with dinner, roasted chicken, salad, and something for dessert. So many people are watching out for me. We talked about the funeral. It is set for Saturday, March 30 here in Kona. Fr. Lio will officiate. I am very happy with this because I know he loved Mike and valued his contribution to the church. Deacon Clarence and Deacon John Coughlin will be on the altar, and their wives will do the first and second reading of the funeral mass. He proposed that either Damon or Yvette do the eulogy. I haven’t broken that piece of news to them yet.
I am planning to fill Mike’s soon-to-be empty closet space with a kind of memorial. The area is open, not a normal closed in closet, so the back wall is visible. I want pictures there, so it’s still filled with him. Brenda talked about putting some photos together for the funeral. Final resolution: Damon is going to put the pictures together and have them compiled by Shutterfly, and then have the board mailed to me. We have to get everything ready, so he can order it this weekend. I have to find a place that converts real photographs, you know the individual type that comes on paper, to a digital one so I can send it to him. I think we should also do a big one of Mike and me on the day of his ordination. I have to call Trenton tomorrow and see if I can find the exact date.
Time to eat dinner and start tackling that huge amount of mail that has accumulated over the last 5 weeks, which Yvette didn’t bring over to Honolulu with her. I spent dinner in front of the TV, watching Inspector Lewis, an English mystery. I find it relaxing. Then sorted much of the mail, walked Elsa, and went to bed.
