Sadness Descends at Ralph's

 

I used to grocery shop a lot, by myself, and with my father, when he was alive. When I think about it, it was only a few months ago that this was true.

But since he died, I DO shop--when you have cats, shopping is a sine qua non--gotta do it. But not like I did before. I suppose from one perspective it is a good thing for I am spending a tad less than I was accustomed to doing on luxury grocery items.

But I think I realized today why I have revved it down.

I went to what a friend of mine once called, and I now call, the "Rock and Roll" Ralphs on Sunset in Hollywood, on my way back to the westside from downtown and work. There were about three places my father and I went pretty regularly for big food shopping, big for me, not so big for him. Two were Ralph's and one was his particular favorite (other than the 99 Cents Store) Jon's on La Brea, a favorite of the Russian community.  In the last year or two, the Sunset Ralph's had been our Sunday regular, convenient to his house, my house and after Church.

As I left my parking space, one I seemed to remember I had settled in on one of the many trips there with Dad, I stood on the concrete separator from one space to another. It seemed it was one, the one, my Dad nearly tripped on. He was still walking fairly well the last six months, but with less certainty and could occasionally not see such barriers.

Take a wagon. It used to be he took one, I did. Now it was just me. I did not do what was usual for both of us, go to the cat food aisle. I wandered about picking up other items, passed the hot food counter where he'd sometimes get a styrofoam carton for a couple of nights dinner. The meat counters, where he'd compare weight and prices. We did not actually shop together. I'd do my thing, and I'd run across him doing his. We'd meet at the check out when we both had what we needed. He'd get his apple pie, and the Sara Lee hot dog rolls that were just the right size for the best of the hot dogs, Hebrew National.

He hated that the fruit and vegetables cost so much at Ralph's, but he'd look anyway, and sometimes he'd find a deal.

He was everywhere tonight at Ralphs. While it was good to have him close in memory, it hurt I could not grasp him, here, in life, as before. It was kind of like when you have a dream, you know? You wake up, and it's clear, and then in the moments afterward, what happened in it starts to fade, and you try to hold it, hold it, perfectly and you know you can't. That is what hurts. That tangibility is gone. I look for signs of his still being around me. I feel that he is, but sometimes, when it isn't the same as it was, it just feels wrong, off. Not as it should be. But as it is.