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The Laboring of Labor Day
Just before Christmas last year, the husband of our second oldest died unexpectedly. It was devastating. Our daughter moved on, one step at a time, with lots of support. But when spring came, she felt overwhelmed. Her husband was a do-it-your-self-hobbyist; his sudden departure left unfinished projects behind, and many abandoned tools. She’s great with business and finance, but tools? Not so much. Her frustration on Facebook posts got the attention of the oldest sister who contacted the others.
“Look,” she wrote. “Whenever any of us needed anything, she was the first one to lend a hand. Money, resources, cars, even taking time off work to stay with someone who needed a hand; whatever we needed, she was always there for us. Now she needs us. Everyone get out your calendars and block off any four days over the Labor Day weekend next fall. We’re going to tend to her honey do list.” When summer arrived, she told her sister what was planned and asked her to get her honey-do list going.
And that’s how we spent Thursday to Sunday, tackling the honey dos. Our son-in-law brought his power tools and skill. The teens and young-adults rebuilt and completed a beautiful fire ring in the back yard. Ceiling molding and doors were installed, porch carpet pulled up and new laid down, new kitchen sink faucets, filters changed, the garage cleaned out, trips to the dump, all the tools sorted and organized, gutters repaired, smoke detectors installed, a bit of gardening, and items identified for expert house calls, on and on until 3 pages of honey-dos were done, and several trips made to Home Depot. After two days, reinforcements arrived. The siblings of the deceased came to help and added their skills to the mix.
We were happy for their help because some of our gang had to pull out at the last minute, one with a family death and funeral and another one moving and prepping for hurricane Dorian.
For Dave and I, watching our grown children with their spouses is most gratifying; their skills, teamwork, and what nice adults they are. They like to be together; no jealousy or ages-old quarrels that burden so many families. But more than that, I’m awed by who they’ve become, and a little jealous that I don’t have a bunch of siblings to watch my back. How would it be to have sisters? Maybe as good as having daughters. And that’s pretty great.