This is the family coin we had made in Korea when I retired in 2003:
Andrea edited English manuals for Samsung products and worked with one of their graphic artists to design it. The van was how people knew us in Korea (custom vans were rare and often used by celebrities instead of limousines.) As there doesn’t seem to be a coat of arms for Razinha, let alone the hybrid Razinha-Davis, we made up our own with emblems of things that were important to us: the Navy, music, books and animals/pets. The “Live Well-Laugh often-Love much” quote was on a plaque in our kitchen and Rufus Choate just happened to say something that we hold true.
As I said, I retired in 2003, but the Navy will always be a part of who I am. As for the others… they were ripped from us on July 31st. The van? Destroyed. Our personal library of 5,800 books…gone. Guitars, basses, drum kit, baby grand piano…gone. Our dear, sweet cats….so much more than symbols on a coin.
Out of all of us, I seem to be having the hardest time dealing with the devastating loss of our house and as near to everything we possessed as you can imagine. I, a champion of rational thinking, became physically ill when I went into a bookstore last week. Remembering this
is probably why.
I, a champion of reason over emotion, feel my chest tighten when I think of this:
I spent years building, creating, arranging, tweaking, adding to our admittedly WAY over the top display. I even took precious time away from studying for the Professional Engineer exam in 2010 to set it up because it’s such a part of the family tradition. While Andrea’s art went in so many directions and grew so fast that I had a hard time keeping pace, this was a stable part of our lives that I considered my art. Right now, I don’t know how I can start over. It’s like taking ten years off from the gym and thinking, “I can bench press with the same weight I remember I used last time, right?” How can you go from super huge to a couple of skeletons and gravestones? Still reeling. And that doesn’t even scratch the surface of all the things we lost.
“You need to deal with this.” “You need to get past this.” “You need to move on.”
These are words I’ve heard lately from several people. All said, I know, with sincere concern for me. I can forget a ton of things, but for me to “deal with” and “get past” so I can “move on”, I’ll have to wall off those memories of things that can never be again so that I don’t think about them because I can’t forget.
The saying goes: Time heals all wounds, but the podiatrists know that time also wounds all heels.