Heaven At My House

Last Memorial Day. 

This long weekend is like no other I can remember. I thought I could handle it. Wrong! Perhaps it’s the timing – so close to the last goodbye. Or the memories of last year’s Memorial Day BBQ Pizza Party with the Kahuna, in his Dodgers apron, skillfully manning his apple wood-stoked pizza oven. Sounds of friends and family filling the house and backyard. Music. So. Much. Joy. And the expectation that so any more Memorial Days were in our future. I still can’t wrap my head around the “lasts” we assumed would have “mores.”

Instead of backyard bashes, I am planning a “Party” for 200+. George never wanted a funeral, and I honored his wish. The most important – and painful event I never imagined. Today as I put the tribute video in the can, I once again felt the tug of contrary emotions that inhabit my surreal existence. Loving the process of choosing photos and carefully editing them to seamlessly blend with a meaningful soundtrack. Completely caught up in the project, then feeling suddenly gobsmacked with the reality that it’s my final goodbye to my first and only love. Somehow the act of creating the video brought me closer to George, and when I faced the notion that Saturday will mark the final farewell to him, I melted into a fresh puddle of tearful sadness and remorse. Grief. The unwelcome "gift" that keeps on giving - and I never know when my broken heart is going to trigger the river that regularly spills down my cheeks. I still struggle with the thought of what Paula 2.0 will look and feel like.

Family and friends are traveling from points across the country for “The Party." I'm planning a family mini-reunion here next Friday - a pre-celebration with family stories that may not be fit for the more public ones we will share Saturday. The only thing missing will be the Kahuna and his famous baby back ribs. His two, built-in Weber Kettles sit unused, a reminder of all of the gatherings George loved hosting. That and the mountain of charcoal in the garage…

Mt. Kingsford

Memorial Day Weekend had special significance to BBQ Master George. Besides flying the flag and remembering all those who bravely served our country, it was CHARCOAL DAY! My hubby stockpiled the stuff, as if there might one day be a shortage of his BBQ heat-source of choice. I am not kidding! He eagerly awaited the towering briquette display – and deep discount - at Home Depot, and with Charlie in tow, bought as many bags as the store limit allowed. He left me with a full supply stacked neatly in the garage - another reminder of his absence from my life. So far I haven't cried over stacked charcoal, and actually smile at the memory of those Home Depot missions - and the look on people's faces as they watched the spectacle!

There were also “grand” moments this week that provided much needed respite from my grief-fest. Four year old Max gets the award this past week for the most memorable. His pre-school program will be the stuff of embarrassing stories when he’s older. In the middle of the song fest, nature called! Proud Gigi was enjoying the performance of wiggly-squiggly three and four year olds when Max stopped singing and began performing the undeniable pee-pee dance! I grabbed my phone/camera to record the moment forever, as Max announced to the audience he had to go to the bathroom and bolted offstage! Daughter was quick to meet him, and after the necessary pause that refreshed, he returned – and proceeded to belt out the loudest chorus of “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” drowning out the 30 or so others with his exuberance. George would have roared! It was wonderful.

Gigi and Grand Max

Max is also the only grand old enough to verbalize his grief with questions about his grandpa’s death - which came just weeks after he had to hear this friends had lost their mommy, also to cancer. It’s a daily part of Max’s dialogue, and the family is navigating the conversations with care. “Answer his questions, and don’t explain more than he asks,” is the advice from the pediatrician. Daughter and SIL have done an extraordinary job in helping him process a subject that we adults struggle with. I get questions from him too, and we have had some beautiful, if short, conversations. He routinely asks, “Do you miss Grandpa?” to which I always answer the obvious – “Yes, I do.”

Last week, Max had a more profound question that still rings in my ears. ”Do you wish Heaven was at your house?” Wow! That was IT. What a concept. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Where is heaven? What is the afterlife? There have been too may Kahuna signs to deny he is making the rounds, When I was sobbing the other night, Charlie snuggled up close, his eyes looking deep into my soul. “George, it that you?” I asked? Was he visiting me with Charlie as the earthly vessel? Maybe Heaven IS at my house – and in my car, and on the charcoal mountain in the garage!

I spent this Memorial Day Sunday alone, listening to a playlist of carefully selected Kahuna tunes, getting Casa de Hultman ready for the arrival of out-of-town family and friends. I yearned for celebrations of the past – with George happily carrying a new bag of charcoal on his shoulder, preparing the applewood chips for the smokey wonderfulness of his tri-tip and baby back ribs. His joy in welcoming anyone and everyone to his backyard paradise. His heaven.

Kahuna Heaven - his BBQ's

Friday’s gathering will likely have as many tears as beers. No BBQ – our dear friends are providing dinner and desserts. George’s “Mount Kingsford” remains safe in the garage warehouse. But the Kahuna will be here with us – by the fire
pit, behind the bar, at the table – as we share stories and remember the fun he brought to life. Max will be here too, remembering Grandpa and reminding us that Heaven is wherever we keep the Kahuna’s memory alive.