This weekend promises to be an emotional one.
Carolyn's dad bought a plot of land on a calculated whim, if there's such a thing, back in the 70s, so the story goes. As he built his family, he also, bit by bit, cleared a plot of trees, poured a foundation, and built a home away from home.
Drilling of a well, setting of a septic bed, clearing of a path for an overhead, electric line through trees, and clearing of trees jeopardizing those lines all undertaken by Carolyn's dad.
Built from the ground up, basically by hand, this first visit to the family cottage this weekend will be difficult. In the days following his passing, I drove up with a a long time friend, and, as small cities go, also distant in-law of the family, to grab some belongings for visitation, and drain water lines since it was pretty clear at that point, no-one would be, or want to be going back to the cottage for a while.
At the time it was an act of preservation, and support. I knew there were important family photos there, and I also knew the cottage would need to be prepped for winter, because the stalwart of that landing was no longer around.
As it turned out, Carolyn and I had been the last occupants a few weeks earlier, with our notes of minor maintenance issues still sitting on the kitchen table, as was tradition. In the shock of how these things go, my old friend and I grabbed the required, as well as some quirky belongings, ensured antifreeze in the drains, and completed the cannonball run up north and back.
Funeral, extended visitation with extended family, and time. And all the adjustment that comes with funerals.
And now, its time to go back to the cottage for the first time for anyone in the family, and begin adapting with the builder no longer being around to offer his critique.
Its started to hit me more than it did in those first days of rushing up to just 'take care of things'.
To have a dedicated father, with goal in mind of a family retreat, and place to relax in in retirement. A retirement that was just shy of a year away. Long hours invested to have returns cut short.
And as trying as it will be for me, for Carolyn, as the oldest, and most embracing of the cottage experience and all its trivialities, I don't expect it to be easy going. Frequently disagreeing with her father's 'design' ideas, and propensity towards brown paint, and 100W lightbulbs everywhere, Carolyn, with her mom, took pride in finishing details of the projects, arranging, and organizing the cottage into what is a truly relaxing retreat.
I can only try to imagine and ease the emotions Carolyn will go through this weekend, likely without success. Myself, I'll be building a fire in the 'limestone amphitheater' hot enough to quickly evaporate any eye moisture that I expect may accumulate in memory.