The Living Must Live

The living must live, life does go on. At the time, it was nearing Halloween. Plans were being set, with no expense spared from LJ’s grandparents. They had always been generous for their children's holidays and special events. Gary was going all out to haunt his man cave, while Helen decorated cookies and filled goody bags for the kids. A pot of stew, cheddar biscuits, and apple pie would be offered to their guests. A few of LJ’s classmates would be coming, with longtime family friends joining the fun. LJ would become a robot this year; his grandmother was a creative genius as far as he was concerned. He marveled at each new component his AI guy would receive, “How do you do it, Gramma? It’s the best costume ever!”.

The party was a monster-mash hit. The stew pot was emptied and the sweet treats were gobbled up. Grandpa’s haunted garage sufficiently spooked the kids and was then utilized by the men to drink ale and puff cigars. The ladies sipped cider and visited around the firepit. “What about bobbing for apples, Gramma?” LJ wondered. “I don’t have any apples, kiddo, I used them for pie.” she explained. “I’ve got a better idea, come on guys, help me,” LJ insisted, and away they ran across the property. Helen used the opportunity to fill her friends in on the latest news about Nathan, LJ’s dad. The last she heard he was in Portland. Not good. Nothing good comes to an addict who ends up in that city. She held back her tears as her friends consoled her, assuring her he would get well soon, promising prayers, and offering anything she may need.

After a bit Helen walked out to see what the kids were doing. She stood on top of the grassy knoll and found the children in the old orchard, gathered under the pear tree. Their laughter echoed up to her. With the dusky hues of the October twilight, the children’s silhouettes mingled and pranced about. Helen remained for a moment taking in the perfect picture and the treasured innocence of the children. The kids bolted up the yard, hands in the air, waving pears, and shouting, “Hey look, we have pears instead of apples! We can bob for pears!” Helen laughed. They brought the spotted and bruised pears to the ladies; upon inspection it was decided the pears weren’t edible, but it was a good idea. A rowdy game of hide and seek would be the evening's entertainment, and so the party continued heartily.

About a year after the best-ever Halloween party, authorities considered Nathan to be a missing person. At the same time LJ had been deemed an unaccompanied minor by the state, as both of his parents were absent. He’d never known his mother, but his dad stayed until he was six. The grandparents would become legal guardians to LJ and the little family held close. They rarely spoke of Nathan; it caused Helen to become unbearably withdrawn and still. The house wasn’t home without her vibrant, busy management of things. The lightness of her singing throughout the day was quintessential; the love that went into each task was irreplaceable. So, it remained that prayers replaced the son and father they had known.

LJ became a quiet and serious student. So much so Helen intervened; soccer and guitar became part of the routine, exercise was consistent and friends were made. He ate so much - she’d almost forgotten how much teenagers ate! No expense was spared, and, at his fingertips he held all that would make him well-rounded, and hopefully, happy.

“He’s a chip off his old Grampa!” Gary would insist. The two did get each other going, the man cave was often filled with laughter, music, and loud conversations. LJ adored his grandparents and never gave hurting or disappointing them a second thought. After graduation, he became an apprentice tile setter from the direction of his folks. They were almost always right, except when Grampa barbecued drunk. Soon, the time had come for LJ to get his own place. Moving out was the first, most difficult thing he had to do in his life. Leaving his grandparents home was down-right anguishing. He worried they would take on too much if he wasn’t there; he made them promise to leave his regular chores for the weekend.

LJ still came every Sunday and spent the day. Not long after he got his own place, he met Brooklyn, Bea to LJ. They were crazy about each other! She was a feminine version of him and according to Helen, “An astonishing match!” Of course she and Gary loved her like their own daughter. Every weekend the four of them would handle the chores, make food and conversation, challenge each other to board games and cards, rest and convalesce as needed; they were the best of days.

There were so many things for LJ to be thankful for, the love in his life was endless. He never knew anything else. So, when he’d get angry and sad about his dad he’d feel guilty - he didn’t have the right to be upset - he had a great life, so why did he get mad? It was during those times of confusion he was heavy spirited and denied encouragement from his family. These episodes had become more frequent. The idea of brooding around didn’t sit well with LJ - something had to be done.

LJ thought if he could help some people with the same problems his dad had maybe he would find some peace of mind. He decided to volunteer with the homeless population. Bea didn’t like it - they tangled over it. In the end, LJ insisted and began a simple outreach where he hit the streets armed with socks, protein snacks, and lots of bottled water. He dug deep down to muster through just a couple hours in the city. The vile conditions and radical behaviors were intense, unyielding. Bea paced and prayed when he’d go out; she’d call Helen and they’d fuss over it. Grandpa cranked the tunes in his cave, drank beer and sang, sending good vibes to his best buddy, LJ.

Portland was once the pride of the Pacific Northwest - the city hosted incredible food venues and various entertainment arenas; it was a destination place where bright shops and clever vendors enjoyed bristling clientele. After riots and the pandemic, it became a cesspool teeming with disgust. Homeless junkies had taken over the city sidewalks and storefronts. Garbage piles, drug needles, and the stank of urine were on every corner in certain districts. Gotham City came to mind, it was that bad. Some places were too far gone to even consider going near; fires and rioting were endless.

It was only along the waterfront where LJ breathed freely. Once he turned his attention across the river, he’d find beauty there. Evergreen covered hills, speckled with evening lights brought comfort. He didn’t think he was making any kind of difference, and he really wasn’t; connecting with the lost souls was more difficult than he realized. Walking the waterfront, LJ came to understand he couldn’t change the past, he couldn't have another chance with his dad, he loved Bea, and he wanted to get to the business of truly living. The homeless outreach had become a constant argument with Bea and he could tell his grandparents didn’t approve. So, the backpack and gear were stowed in the closet, along with a fair amount of dejection.

In time, LJ and Bea welcomed three children to their lives. The years had been kind to Gary and Helen, they were unusually spry. Hosting the kids' holidays and birthdays brought a new sort of vigor to the place. LJ claimed Bea grew more beautiful every day, and she only ever had eyes for him. He would consistently acknowledge how truly fortunate he was - he knew only to give as much as he could to this endeavor of family. The love and friendship he received in return was too great to measure. Life’s challenges would always present themselves. Raising a family gets demanding, but they were definitely going to make it - their folks were sure of it.

LJ’s youngest would be turning four. This birthday party wasn’t going to be at the folks’ place, Helen had become quite ill. She didn’t give many details, just that her time was coming and she wasn’t in a lot of pain. LJ knew she'd been keeping her declining health a secret; he tried not to make too much of it, but he was falling apart. This was his Mom! She was the one. How would he ever get by without her? Bea didn't know what to say, words were feeble, she put it all into helping with Helen’s care, the children, and the house - she was a brick. Gary took exclusive care of his wife every morning and evening. He never stopped making her laugh. And, being the devoted, loving husband he was, he held her hand when she took her last breath. LJ couldn’t bring himself to be there for the moment of her passing. He kissed her on the top of the head, squeezed her hand, softly crying he whispered, “I love you more than anything.” Then he walked, alone in the night, for hours.

Helen’s last wishes were simple. Everything she had went to LJ and Bea once her husband passed. Gary would keep her wedding ring. She asked to be cremated. Her ashes should be sprinkled across the old orchard, under the pear tree. Her family didn’t take the meaning of this, the orchard hadn’t been kept up for some years, the folks got a bit old to harvest and LJ wasn’t asked to keep it up. Of course Helen’s wishes were kept, her ashes were sprinkled by the six of them under the tree and across the overgrown pathway in the little orchard. They made a family dinner, had a fire, and shared favorite stories about the best Grandmother ever.

LJ kept a little place in his everyday life for his Grandmother; he’d watch the sunset or the moving clouds. Bea observed him sometimes; she could see it was sorrowful, yet peaceful for him. He remembered how his Grandma helped him steer away from depression and self pity. He knew he had to keep darkness at bay. One evening while LJ was over at his folks house, he took his leave near sunset and walked the property. He stood on the grassy knoll as Helen had all those years ago and gazed at the orchard. He noticed the silhouettes of the trees and the vibrant colors in the sky, and LJ thought this must be why she chose the orchard. He was satisfied with himself, he was sure he had figured out the mystery of the place his Grandma chose.

He was about to turn away when he saw a hunched over man in a hooded jacket approach the edge of the orchard. He thought of the drug addicts in the city. LJ went nearer to him and shouted, “Are you lost? This is private property - you have to leave!” The man lifted his darkened, haggard face and slowly waved. He quietly smiled and shakily replied, “These trees used to grow really good fruit.” An odd sense came over LJ, “Do I know you? How do you know this place?” The man closed both eyes and nodded once to him. He clasped his hands together and said, “I will go.” He turned and walked away. LJ wanted to follow, but somehow he couldn’t.

From then on, the sunsets at his folks' were treated with a certain reverence when LJ was there. He’d walk the property during that stretch of the evening, capturing precious moments here and there. The children had the run of the place and there were endless seasons of play at Grandpa and Grandma's house. This would certainly please Helen.