I've been back from my latest vacation for a week, so it's probably time I start blogging about it. I did think to carry a little notebook with me while I was gone, and I wrote down memorable things I wanted to write about. Because I know sometimes, my memory fails me. Not all the time. Sometimes, it's just as sharp as an elephant's.
This latest vacation was our big family trip to Florida. The adults (my parents, sister, brother in law, and I) had been planning it for a year and a half. The children found out about the trip about two weeks before we left. We stayed at my parents' timeshare just off the Disney property. We hit the theme parks and took a day and went to Daytona. It was a very busy week.
Florida used to be almost like a second home to us. My grandparents moved to Florida when I was four. We first went to Florida a few months after they moved, and we went at least once a year after that. My grandparents lived in Volusia County, conveniently located between Daytona and Orlando. I was in college the last time I visited Florida. Since that time, both of my beloved grandparents have passed away. I have always known the time would come that I would go to Florida and they wouldn't be there. I just wasn't prepared for the torrent of emotions that flooded me.
So much of the area has grown up and been developed since I was last there more than 15 years ago. I couldn't have found my way around Orlando if my life depended on it- the roads criss cross onto each other and it's just a big jumble. However on the day we headed to Daytona, it didn't take long to get my bearings. Driving down I-4 we started seeing exit signs for Sanford. I knew where I was then. Sanford was where Grandma used to take us to the zoo. We rode the elephants there. It was also where you could get the boats to cruise down the St. John's River, which we did several times. We drove a little further and my sister said she knew where she was, because that was the exit we took to Grandma's house. It looked a lot different, as I would expect it would. But my mind traced the route from the exit to Grandma's ranch house in the cul de sac. I was almost amazed at how much I remembered.
We drove into Daytona, which was instantly both as familiar as ever and yet someplace I had never seen before. Dad and I used to go to the Daytona 500 every year. I started going around the age of 9 or 10, and went all through high school. My freshman year of college I watched the race in the basement of my dorm, crying my eyes out because I missed my Dad so much. Race days were always a special ritual for Dad and I. We got up early and drove to Daytona. He pointed out the place where we used to park. It was mid morning, but I could see the sun coming up over the track. I pointed out the strip mall where 'our' muffin place was. It was actually an ice cream shop, but on race days you could go there and get the most wonderful muffins. Dad and I always ordered poppy seed muffins. There was the track, and our seats. Still two steps out of heaven. That's how Mom always referred to our seats.
We drove past the mall, which seemed much smaller than it used to. We remembered going shopping there with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa always excused himself to go to the bookstore, which conveniently was next to the bikini shop. We always found Grandpa, sitting 'outside' the bookstore. Mom said she'd ask him what he saw, and he said 'some sights you wouldn't believe'. We drove past the Bob Evans that was our place to stop for lunch after a trip to the mall. My grandparents always ordered pancakes because my aunt didn't like the smell of pancakes so Grandma didn't make them at home.
It was impossible to be in this area and not talk about our grandparents. For so long, Florida was our vacation spot. It was where our Grandparents lived. This area held as many memories for us as our hometown in NY does.
A couple of weeks before the trip, one of my bear friends was killed in a motorcycle accident. I had never had the pleasure of meeting her in person, but she had such a tremendous impact on my life. I felt her loss very deeply. To honor her memory, other bear friends decided to release balloons on Sunday, September 16 at 2pm. I was not able to do it at that time, but I wanted to participate. I knew Char loved being by the water, and I decided releasing a balloon on Daytona Beach would be perfect. So we stopped at KMart on the way to the beach and I bought a balloon. Sydney wanted to help me pick out the balloon, so of course she picked the princess one. I explained to her that we were not keeping the balloon, we were sending it to my friend who went to Heaven. She asked how we were going to do that. I told her we would let the balloon go at the beach, and the wind would carry it to Heaven. It was the easiest way to explain it to a 6 year old. She held the balloon at the beach and when I told her to, she let it go. It took a couple of seconds, but the wind quickly picked it up and carried it off.
On our way home from the beach, we stopped at Hobby Lobby to get flowers for my grandparents' grave. Mom and I were the only two to go in, so it was up to us to pick the flowers. Mom didn't want anything season specific, because she didn't want the arrangement to look outdated. We knew we wanted something with bright colors, because both of my Grandparents loved bright colors. We found some beautiful silk azaleas. The colors were so vivid. At my grandparents' first home in Florida, their walkway was lined with huge azalea bushes. My grandfather had an amazing green thumb- he could grow anything. Grandma took great pride in the azaleas. As we stood there in the store aisle, I told Mom I felt like I was standing on their front step surrounded by the azaleas. We knew we found the flowers. We chose a vibrant hot pink, and then accented it with white silk roses.
With flowers in hand, it was time to pay our respects to Grandma & Grandpa. I knew where the cemetery was, but I had not been there since either of them passed away. I had tried to prepare myself ahead of time. I failed. They are interred in a mausoleum, which is a small building. It is climate controlled, with doors that lock. You walk into this building, and the side walls are large blocks of marble (or at least it looked like marble). Each block is a burial 'plot'- for lack of a better word. And there, on one of these walls, are my grandparents names. There are two couches in this room, and a few chairs. There are tables on each side. Each table holds a group of metal vases, one vase per one block of marble. We found my grandparents' vase and took out the old flowers. I carefully arranged the new ones and we made sure their pictures were with the flowers. We stayed for a couple of minutes, then it was back to the car to make the long drive back to Orlando.
I tried to keep my emotions in check, and I almost succeeded. But by the time we were back to our condo, I couldn't keep it in any longer. I went to my room and the tears just flowed. My Dad came in and I told him what was bothering me. Apparently everyone else forgot that I had not been to the mausoleum since Grandma & Grandpa passed away. Everyone else had been there before. Dad wrapped me in his arms and I cried on his shoulder. It took me back to when I was a child and Dad comforted me. Even at 36 years old, Dad's strong arms around me are comforting. Dad went out and talked to Mom, and she came in. We talked about where my grandparents are interred. It bothers both of us that they were not buried in NY, near their family. The mausoleum is so cold, so impersonal. It made me feel like no one cares. There are no other 'Wagers' on the wall. How will anyone know how wonderful these two people were? How loved they were?
Of course, I know my Grandparents are not IN the wall. It wasn't just the indignity of their final resting place. I was also missing them. Florida for me always meant my Grandparents, and now it doesn't. I had to come to terms with that; another step in the grieving process which I don't think ever ends.
The rest of the family went to the pool. I told them I just needed some time. I took that time to cry my eyes out. I rested for a bit, watched tv, and called Erich. By the time the family came back an hour or so later, I felt better.
As the vacation went on, we kept talking about Grandma and Grandpa. It was hard not to, because so much of what we were doing we had previously done with them. The heartache lessened though. I realized we were making new memories with the next generation. It seemed in fact, that the memories of the past and the present were weaving together. If I needed confirmation of this, it came the night we had dinner in Cinderella's castle. Sydney was given this huge helium Princess balloon at dinner (part of the special birthday celebration for her). We tied the balloon to the stroller on our way out. The ribbon holding the end of the balloon was not secured tightly, and as we walked along, the balloon slipped from the ribbon and took off over Cinderella's castle. All of the adults tried to jump and catch it, but we couldn't. Sydney at first was upset that her balloon was gone, and we promised her we would find another one. We saw a balloon vendor and Dad and my brother in law took off to catch him. Sydney watched her balloon float over the castle and said "You know what, Aunt Amy?" I asked her "what, honey?" She said "It's ok. I think your friend wanted that one too." She's right. Life goes on, but we carry the past in our hearts always.
This post has been heavy on my heart, but I knew I needed to write it. Now that I have, I can write about the fun parts of the vacation.
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