Newspapers, crossed paths, and memories

For the past 14 years, my only job outside the home has been as a newspaper carrier. I switched to this line of work from a cushy 9 to 5 office job after our second son was born, in order to save money on daycare and also to have more time with the boys when they were very young. I intended to stay at this job at least until the boys were both in school. It worked out quite well for our family. Brandon is entering high school this fall and Adam will be graduating next spring and I am still getting up every day, 365 days a year, very early to deliver papers. I never imagined I would stay on this job for this length of time.

There have been sacrifices along the way. Things such as family vacations or even an overnight visit to a relative's house are almost impossible to arrange. Even a late night out is a rare thing. Since our family's schedule was already basically controlled by my job, Chuck decided to join me by getting his own route a few years ago...after being laid off from his "real" job.

We never could have known how much that arrangement would come to mean to us. We were literally together 22 hours every day. Even during those 2 hours we were apart delivering our own individual routes, we would see each other at least once...sometimes several times. Our routes crossed paths in a couple of places. I got so used to turning a corner or passing a street and looking down it to see if his vehicle was there. It got to the point where I knew approximately where he would be at any given time. If I didn't see his car, I would look for him to see if he was having some sort of problem.

I would stop and talk to him for a few minutes. We would chat about anything unusual that had happened so far, or about something we heard on the radio, or even just about what we were going to eat for breakfast and what we were going to do later in the day.

When he first began to get sick, I started delivering his route for him. He was in so much pain. He was barely sleeping. Every day I would pick up his papers for him and stop home to wake him up, hoping that he would be feeling better today. He tried to help out and do what he could but it was just too much for him.

Then October 18th, 2008 happened. The official diagnosis.

I knew then that I would never cross paths with him while on my route. Ever again. One of the first "last times" had already happened weeks before we even realized it. After all, we had assumed that his back would eventually heal and he would be back to work.

I remember the ride home from the hospital that day. He said, "I'll try to do some of my route but, Honey, I don't think I can do the parts with stairs or too much walking." I just looked at him incredulously. What did he think I expected from him? I said, "Chuck, you will never work again. Don't worry about it. I can handle it. You just worry about resting and trying to feel as good as possible." I felt so sorry for him. I tried to hide the pity in my eyes.

My plan was to continue doing both of our routes until the holidays were over. He hated that I had to get up extra early and then come home and care for him all day. He didn't want this situation to be a burden on me. (I never considered it a burden. I told him I would continue on like this for years if it meant keeping him here with me.) Every morning he would tell me that he wished I could just give up his route. He worked so hard all year to earn those Christmas tips...there was no way I was going to give up right before it paid off. He was always amazed by the tips I received and the nice notes customers would send in cards. The first year he got his own, it made him feel proud that he had done a good job...that his customers appreciated his services so much. I wanted him to have that feeling one more time.

Needless to say, he never got the opportunity. I did get plenty of appreciative notes right after his death and also that Christmas from his customers. Many of them were quite sweet and a few were downright emotional. I especially enjoyed the ones that mentioned him. Several of his customers (the early risers!) had gotten to know him on a personal level. Not only did they appreciate his work ethic, they truly liked him as a person. It touched my heart that one even showed up at the funeral home. So many of them were truly saddened when they learned of his passing.

It has been 6 months since I gave up that route. Although I didn't miss the extra work once it was gone, it took me awhile to get over the fact that another person was out there doing it. I didn't want to pass a street or turn a corner and see a strange car. It just didn't feel right.

Starting yesterday, part of that route got permanently added on to mine. I wondered how it would feel to be back out there delivering it again. I must admit that it's strange. I'm not the emotional wreck I assumed I would be but I do have trouble concentrating on what I'm doing. With every step I take, with every paper I throw, so many memories come flooding back. This is where he said this. Or this is where we had that stupid argument. Or this is the customer he would talk to every morning and come home and relay the conversation to me. Oh...and this is where the car broke down. This is where he had a flat tire.

It's strange...some of the things that come back to me. Stupid things, really. But things that were "him" or "us". So they are not really stupid, I guess. That was our life.

I'm sure, in time, it will all feel normal to me. It will begin to feel like "my" route...not his. They are now MY customers. That's hard to imagine right now. But it was also hard to imagine surviving even one day without him and I've managed to do that for almost 250 days now.

So, yeah, this too will become normal.

But we will never again cross paths in the morning. We will never again talk about our breakfast menu. I will never turn a corner and feel my heart beat just a little bit faster when I see him there. When I hear something funny on the radio, I will never again ask him if he heard it.

But in the two short days since I started back on that route, HIS route, I've noticed something. If I stop, if I stand still enough and look up at the stars, I can feel him there. I swear I can feel him there sometimes. But why wouldn't I? He is with me always. Even if it's only in my heart.