I went to Disneyland yesterday. A gift from my son. He was working and I would get to see him in action. Got there just as the park opened then dashed to Space Mountain and used the single rider lane to avoid the hour-long line. The guy next to me in our little rocket was very enthusiastic that our journey on an interstellar roller coaster was the best possible way to start a day at the Diz. He was very vocal and chatty, which I did not mind.
What struck me was that for the first time in a very long time, the person next to me on Space Mountain was a total stranger. Calene used to scream through every swoop and bank. Scream. I'm glad my new buddy did not do that. "I'm going to do it again," he told me as we jumped off, whereupon he sprinted back to the single rider line.
Church was like that, too. I didn't get my beloved aisle seat so I pushed in a couple places to create space. Plenty of seats to my right for the otherwise open row, but a couple planted themselves squarely in the two seats to my left between myself and the aisle woman. They came in late. Too late to be this presumptuous. He grabbed my hand and shook it like we were old friends and began singing along to the band. I didn't mind that he was off key. Lord knows I'm about as far in that direction as anyone can go.
But it was when he raised his arm in a show of devotion and was so close I could smell his deodorant, it sunk in that I hadn't gone to church alone in decades. Calene Susan Johnson Dugard was always there on my right side, reaching over now and then to put her arm around me. I moved down a couple seats to gain some space and cry a little in the darkness, hoping it didn't descend into a full-on, shoulder shaking sob. That gets people's attention.
Disneyland got better. I sat with a cup of coffee in New Orleans Square and people-watched. My phone ran out of battery so I had no choice but to sit with the moment. It was very nice, though there's something a little off about being a single older man just hanging out in Disneyland, surrounded by people doing things as couples and families. I wondered if security was keeping tabs on me from some distant camera. I soothed myself with the reminder that I was no more of an oddity than any other lone individual waiting for their family to get off a ride.
I finished my coffee and wandered. My son eventually found me and gave me a hug somewhere over by Critter Country. Small children were clamoring for his attention and parents stood ready with cameras to record their magical moment, but the hug lingered. I stuck around to watch from a distance as he worked. Very proud dad moment.
This is all part of birthday week. Came back from a morning hike on Monday to find balloons and a Happy Birthday banner taped to my front door. A handwritten card from my runners reminded me that they care. They literally used those words. I elected to stay home on birthday night, cancelling with Hempy at the last minute. Then Tutto Fresco texted me to come in and have a free birthday dinner, making me feel lousy for bailing on a good friend while also reminding me that it is not good to be alone when the universe is trying repeatedly to wrap its arms around you.
The Tough Guys made sure I showed up for book club the next night instead of blowing it off to sit home with the dogs. A buddy took me out for a beer on Wednesday. Thursday, I ran into a friend of Calene's while dropping off books at Friends of the Library. I practically fled at the sight of someone I had only before seen in Calene's presence. Hard to explain, but it just felt awkward. I later texted to explain myself and she said she felt it too. Said she wanted to give me a hug but didn't know if it was right. Friday, I gifted the "cancer bag" Calene carried to every infusion. I gave it to her sister, Cate, filling it with several items I could never ever give to Goodwill.
Birthday Week was preceded by Anniversary Week. I almost bought a card at Target to place on the dining room table for Calene to open. But that would have been an act of denial. Life moves on. So, eventually, must I.