Not So Regular Joe Drop Off…

Drop offs started yesterday with my sister-in-law. The one I haven’t spoken to in ten years. It’s safe to say that my oldest brother and his wife are somewhat estranged from the rest of the family. I don’t dream about them often but when I do, there’s always a tundra landscape with lots of snow that I’m going through in order to find them. And although they technically live very close to us, under a mile away (which for LA standards is practically next door), I never see them. They have two houses and don’t stay long in Los Angeles. Aside from a rare, bumping into them at Runyan park, they could be in town or on Mars and I wouldn’t know the difference. In terms of what’s been going on in their lives for the past twelve years I know very little. But because of a family get together a couple of weeks ago, I did know that their dog was dying.

And as observant and intuitive as I like to credit myself being, it doesn’t take much to observe with a couple in their forties, who have no children (don’t know the details), that losing one of their dogs is a big deal. So I did a drop-off.

I left our home, got to theirs in about 1 minute and sat with my sister-in-law in their bedroom with their two other dogs for about 15 minutes before I had to go to work. Aside from the surreal and stark contrast of having been shut out of two people’s lives for over ten years and then finding myself in the intimate setting of their bedroom, petting their dogs, I have to say it was pleasant. Pleasant in that I don’t take their distance personally any more. Pleasant in that I’ve forgotten about what all the drama was about so long ago or more importantly, I don’t care to remember. Yesterday we stood on common ground; the loss of a pet when that pet is your family. And it was wonderful to reach out and let them know our hearts were with them.

Did I drive away up to my old tricks fantasizing about my sister-in-law and I becoming close friends? Of course. Did I imagine our young, healthy dogs having play dates together? Of course. I hadn’t gone but a mile and I’d already had visions of the two of us, sharing a passion for design and beauty, deciding to flip a house together and having tremendous fun and profit while doing it.

This morning there were three drop-offs. One to a guy who introduced himself in a fairly recognizable Indian accent as “Joe”. I’ve been wanting to do a drop off at this particular place for a while now. There have been many early mornings gassing up and exchanging pleasantries with the guy who works here. A guy who’s not Joe. And Joe isn’t really Joe either but Juuraj. “Would you like to wait for him? He’ll be here in 15 minutes” Juuraj offers. But in talking to Joe/Juuraj who has moved with his family to LA against his deepest desires, spending the past 5 years getting an MB in Canada, and now managing this particular Chevron station, and asking him if there were any dreams he had (his eyes lit up immediately with a yes) it was perfect to give this bouquet to him.

Not wanting to be late for work propelled me to leave yet another bouquet at Runyan, on yet another Prius parked under the shade. I just hope I’m not leaving these bouquets on the same damn Prius. Believe me, with LA’s air quality I’m deliriously happy to see them all over town. I just wish these Prius drivers would check in with the randomblooms gang! They might be too busy enjoying all the money they’re saving on gas.

Last but not least, was a drop off to my friend, P, who was mentioned in the very first post and who has always been excited and supportive of randomblooms. The first time I told her what I was doing she grabbed her purse and started to rifle through her wallet. It took me a while to figure out that she was funding a random drop off. Her love and support has always felt motherly in the best way and I was surprised to hear that her own mother passed away this week. I gave her the bouquet I had made while thinking about the two of them.

When I gave her the flowers, she shared with me that she had been with her mother for several days before she passed. Her mother could not respond verbally but P just sat with her, telling her mother how much she loved and appreciated her. As I write this now, I think on when my dog was dying. I held him, singing to him, telling him how much he had meant to me, how much I loved him. I never regret expressing my love and although there’s ten years and an entire tundra landscape between me and my brother and sister-in-law, I was able to find them yesterday in that space between grief and love.