new people, old ghosts

I was sitting on the grassy hillside, under a blue sky, watching the waves roll up to the rocky spit of land that we called a beach.
It was one of my favorite places to just "be".
Then a cyclist pedaled into view on the road below...
and it was Toad, with his hand up in greeting as he rode past me...
then he, and his bike, glided out of sight on the curving road...
and I sat there and cried.
He had died on the biking portion of the triathlon just a week or so earlier.

That was 35 years ago.
I was 23 years old and in my first year at Okinawa.
Last night, the crystallized memory popped back into full view with all the clarity of that clear blue sky on that spring day.
I could even see Michael's face, smiling as he waved.

Kevin and I were at the Savannah Striders' post-race celebration downtown. He had asked if I would fetch him from his apartment, as he didn't trust his mermaid legs and fuzzy head to get him back downtown.
I did, of course.
Things were going very nicely at the restaurant. The family of four across from us welcomed us enthusiastically into their conversation. Maria and Robert had run the half-marathon, with their two daughters cheering them on - very nice!
Then Kevin asked if I had been concerned that he wouldn't finish the race and I had replied that I had been. I told him I had been quite concerned around mile 22, because I knew Jane was to meet him there and I had not heard from her that he was safely to that point. After almost an hour had passed since he had hit mile 20, I had contacted Jane and asked if she had seen him. Yes, she had, and she even sent me a photo!
But I had been very worried, and had continued to worry until his text at mile 25.2.
Kevin asked why I hadn't contacted him if I was worried.
I told him I hadn't wanted to concern him, especially if all was well.
I hadn't wanted to worry him and take his concentration off his quest.
We both knew that people have died on this race, here in this town.
Then, justthatfast, the memory of Toad on that blue-sky day popped into my head and I was suddenly drowning in grief.

I practically ran as I excused myself from the table.
I know me.
The only way to navigate the grief wave is to go through it, allowing myself to be totally submerged, until it has passed by and ebbed away.
That's what my counselor, Duke Miles, had advised during my divorce in late 2007.
He was absolutely right, too.
Getting the tears out of the way immediately, as it happens, allows me to get back to my day in just a few moments. That's much better than trying to postpone dealing with it and ending up with a meltdown.

After only a few minutes, I was able to compose myself and returned to the table.
I told Kevin about my friend and what had happened to him.
I had known I was feeling fretful these past few weeks as Kevin had been ramping up his training for the marathon. My level of anxiety had been ramping up as his enthusiasm rose.
But I had not realized that my concern went back to an incident thirty-five years in my past, when I was young.

Strange how the mind ties old forgotten memories to new events and new people.

As I drove him back to his apartment, I told him about my vision of Michael that long-ago day.
Then I told him about Grandpa's death in Waycross while I was in Okinawa and my vision of him in a dream.
And I told him about the pilgrim ghosts seen when I was a little girl. (That probably is part of my reason for going crazy in the dark, now that I think about it.)
And I told him about Mama helping me enlist, and my debates with Grandpa, and my tubal ligation, and Mama's conversation with me after my first niece was born...
Sigh.
I do hope I haven't run him off.

At least I'm not on parole or probation...
I would definitely be kicked out of his life then...
that would be heartbreaking for me.

Please say a little prayer...