San Francisco & The Empty Nest

Sitting In The Ruins

As I pushed his blond hair away from his blue eyes I told him, “Everything is going to be alright now.” I kissed his lips softly and whispered, “It’s over.”

Then, I wake alone in San Francisco as the sun is rising. I can see the fog on the horizon as the night is pushed away to accept the day. I make a coffee and I curl up on my sofa looking out at the skyline of San Francisco as the day begins.

In the past, I prayed I wouldn’t dream of him. This was easy to accomplish since I fell into bed exhausted at midnight and woke at 5 a.m. I had no time for dreaming. At the time I took any job that would pay me from catering to staging homes for sale, teaching at UC Berkeley, and running my own company Ocean SF. I especially loved catering. No one knew who I was and I could stand in my black apron behind the buffet unnoticed. It was the most relaxing thing I could imagine. The mindless movement, the sea of happy faces I didn’t know, coupled with the beauty of any wedding day. I worked 26 weddings during the spring and summer following the death of my husband. This allowed me to work weekdays and weekends. Seven days a week. I didn’t make much money, but some perks fit into my lifestyle. At the end of the night, I would take platters of food home to my daughters and the half dozen kids that were sitting on my sofa. Wrapped platters of gourmet cheeses, fresh fruit salad, and trays of chicken piccata that would otherwise land in the garbage. Even the flowers. I would rescue all of them. taking buckets of flowers home with me.

When I got home I would open a bottle of wine, turn on music, and sit in my formal living room surrounded by roses. Sometimes there can be a heavy kind of beauty to sadness. I remember those evenings with more clarity than most of the years proceeding. The end of the marriage had been equally sad, and even more dramatic. The days before someone dies of a massive heart attack are never peaceful. You can feel the storm brewing and like the aftermath of a storm, there is silence as you find yourself sitting in the ruins.