Yesterday was Daddy's 81st birthday. To celebrate, all over the planet (DeAngelis planet), we ate a hot fudge sundae.
The kid said, "I'll be Baba today." Did that mean two sundaes? Maybe, he smiled.
He had a lot to say about some hermit crabs he found on the beach recently. There is a Mommy and a Daddy and a baby and a cousin and another cousin. One of the cousins is a girl, one is a boy. Oh Auntie, there was a boy in my summer camp who wore his underwear with his bathing suit.
He is the king of the non-sequitur. Brillant.
"Do you like delicious apples, Auntie?" he asked me. No, actually they are my least favorite apples. Mealy, mushy. Give me a Granny Smith or a Courtland or Mac any any day. The delicious is my last choice. "But do you know who liked delicious apples? Baba."
He loves to know this. It makes him smile.
Baba isn't suffering anymore, he tells me. His feet aren't puffy and the bruises on his arms are gone. Do you remember those bruises?
I do remember them.
Why did he get them?
Well, maybe the medication he took plus when you get older your skin is more fragile.
Yes, that's true, he says. When you get in your 70s and 80s your skin gets like that. Now, he says, if Baba gets a bruise it goes into the white. He gets it and then it goes into the white.
The white?
His wings.
Ah, nice.
He weighs 42 pounds now. Auntie, I'm over 40! he says. We have that in common. He's got a slender little body and frequently asks me to tickle his legs or back or arms. One finger, slowly, sometimes I make letters, but mostly it's just random. He moves so fast usually, it's like stilling a moment, touching time.
Mitch and I went to the cemetery on Sunday. It's not a bad place. Dad's marker was in. His name, the dates, that dash. Mom's name is there with her birthyear and the dash. It's like a bookmark.
Andre had left some rocks and a little clay "B". Originally, he placed it after Daddy's first name so it looked like "Henry B. M. DeAngelis". That made me smile, it would have made Dad smile. I moved the "B" to the end though.
It felt good to touch the letters. My memories, my feelings, my thoughts about my Dad move so fast usually. I want to grab a little something solid and hold on. I traced each letter and came to the "s" and it was time to let go again.