Last Thursday we worked frantically, trying to get everything ready to open the new lounge in Savannah . . . the lounge that is on the first floor rather than at the top of 15 labor-intensive steps. The nice Coke people brought us a newer machine than the one we had—and finally managed to get it down the hall and into its appointed spot.  The plumber came and helped move the vending machine (which is not at all why he was there, but was exceptionally good timing on his part—he actually came to hook up the coffee maker since it has its own water supply—which he did after helping wrestle the vending machine down the stairs).  The electrician came to install the emergency lights so if the power failed no one would break their neck trying to get out of the room . . . hopefully.

Everything was in place but we still needed a way to route people down the hall instead of up the stairs. So we printed a sign with a big black arrow on it that pointed down the hallway, the same sign that you see in the picture accompanying this post.  We took that sign and pinned it at eye level at the foot of the stairway. We turned off all the lights going up the stairs and at the top of the stairs and closed the door to the old lounge.  And for the rest of the night, the nice lady sitting our visitation had to run people out of that room—unless she was lucky enough to catch them before they reached the top.  They would go up the stairs in the dark, open the door that was never closed before, turn on the lights, and sit in a room that was now minus the vending machine and coffee maker.  Only the old Coke machine remained and the delivery guys had removed the lock from it and unplugged it.

Now we have a lovely white plastic chain across the stairs with a sign that says “Renovation Underway, Please Do Not Enter”.

I suppose the moral to the story is that old habits are hard to break. Since January 2 ^nd of 1979, families have traipsed up the stairs and settled into the lounge to enjoy a cup of coffee or a snack from the machine if no food had magically appeared compliments of thoughtful friends.  They go on auto-pilot when the urge to eat pops into their noggins and completely miss the sign telling them to veer right instead of up.

It works the same way when important people cease to be a part of our daily routine. Even after they are gone, we find ourselves reaching for the phone to share the news of the day, expecting to hear them whistling from the next room, watching for them to come through the door just a little after 5:00.  We know it isn’t going to happen, but old habits die hard . . . and old habits involving the people who are fixtures in our lives often refuse to die when they do.  Over time they fade, but they will always be there, waiting for something to trigger their reappearance.  It doesn’t mean you’re crazy.  It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.  It does mean you are fortunate enough to have been so close to someone that their presence in your life remains long after they are gone.

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