Leaping Lee's Landing

It's now been over a year since I said goodbye to my dad. After several intense months of doctor visits, ER trips and hospitalizations, moves from his home of 38 years to assisted living to "rehab" to a memory care facility ... and then his unexpected death and all of the accompanying plans, tasks, memories and emotions, I jumped back into a life that hadn't had the courtesy to slow down and wait for me to catch my breath. I suppose that's a good thing in many ways - a reminder that life doesn't end with a death.

So in the year that I've had to brew and stew, I've reflected often on the many little bright spots and even humor our family found during what was a really tough time but also an opportunity for joy, celebration and great healing.

On the morning of Dad's funeral, I was enjoying a pleasant conversation and cup of java in the kitchen with Uncle Lee, his brother. I remember thinking how lovely it was to be surrounded by Martins in the Martin House. Especially on this day. I've always adored Uncle Lee and I'd always thought the two siblings were polar opposites. But I was beginning to believe the bond and the similarities they shared were much greater than any of us suspected.

Leaning to look out the kitchen window but not noticing the hidden first step down to the back door and basement (who designed this place?!?), Uncle Lee lost his footing and tumbled down the five stairs to the landing. For about a nanosecond, I stared in horror at the little pile of uncle crumpled there. He'd had a knee replacement a few years back and a hip replacement after a motorcycle accident in France when he was a teenager (many decades ago). And due to a heart condition, he was taking blood thinners. All-around, not a good combination for falling down stairs.

So after a brief freak-out in my head, I yelled for help, we got him off the floor and I remember Sarah shouting "Nancy broke Uncle Lee!" (I think to nurse Betsy in Texas, whom we quickly consulted). Once we determined he could walk and nothing seemed to be broken, there was a collective sigh of relief and we resumed getting ready to go to church for the service. Swelling and internal bleeding were our big concerns, so anti-inflammatories were pushed and he sat on bags of frozen peas and edamame at opportune times throughout the day.

My sister and brother and E and I were all overwhelmed at the outpouring of love from friends and family who came to pay their respects and who surrounded us with their love and care in the weeks prior to and the months following Dad's death. At the funeral, I shared aloud a reflection that I think surprised many people. And I'll never forget the priceless looks on their faces when the Hallelujah Chorus played (Dad would have been so pleased - he requested it).

The day after the funeral, Nicholas and Brandon ripped out the old subfloor under Lee's Landing (not related to the fall - the floor had rotted in places and needed repair even when I bought the house). I was so touched that my nephews would do that for me. And it adds to the specialness of that little 3x3 piece of floor.

One evening during the funeral weekend, E tucked Ashton into bed and then climbed in with him to share Great Grandpa memories, and so Ashton could ask E great theological questions. Like how Great Grandpa fit in that little box he'd built that now held his ashes. (And how he could be there AND up in heaven at the same time.) The wise 3-1/2 year old didn't seem to question the truth of these things, he just wanted an explanation.

Fast forward about six months, I finally finished the new floor of Lee's Landing, and had a sturdy gate and railing installed to facilitate getting up and down the kitchen stairs ... and to help reduce the potential for loved ones young and old leaping unintentionally like Uncle Lee.

Figuring it was an occasion for a party, I held a viewing for the local family members and we christened Lee's Leap and Lee's Landing with cocktails and juice boxes. Molly and Sammy put the gate to the test by standing on and shaking it wildly with their feet wedged between the rungs, while they threw stuff down the stairs.

As I sit here sipping my coffee, I think of all that surrounded the naming of Lee's Landing, the months leading up to Leap Day and all the years before that. I miss my dad more than I'd ever thought I could (especially when I was a teenager and was certain I really didn't need him at all), but I'm preparing myself to leap to the next thing life has in store ... with a few more detours here and there to reflect on all that has helped me land where I am today.