Rainy day Saturday and much of Sunday. The birds, who Friday were
everywhere and not quiet about it, on those two days were nowhere to be
seen or heard. That's because they seek shelter on rainy days, just as
you or I might. Why don't they just go to their
nests? you ask. I answer. They built nests when they are ready to mate
and have young. They do not live in nests year-round.
On rainy days they hang out in trees, looking for a spot under a big leaf. A little water is nice for a bath, but a lot of water makes flying impossible.
Sure, the birds have been on my mind, but really that was only a preamble. Some reason I didn't want to start out with this.
No rain today. Sunshine, blue sky, big white clouds. A lovely day. I did not want to go to the cemetery, thinking the traffic would be prohibitive. (That word sounds silly here. Oh well.) And knowing how hard it is for me to go and just stand there looking at the grave stone, thinking anything I might say Wayne already knows, and wishing, as always, he would just come back. Hard to go, you know?
But something kept pushing me to go. So I did.
Went to the store, bought a single red rose, and went out. And I'm glad I did, and glad at just that moment, because when I got there I saw three people I love. Andrew and two of his sons--Jacob and Aaron. And Lola had been there yesterday and left a bouquet of Spring flowers on Wayne's grave.
We talked, Andrew and Jacob and I. Aaron is a man of few words, but he did say he remembers his grandpa. Well, that's good. And that's nice.
Talking is what you do at a graveside, unless you're alone. I was happy for the company. Andrew says he still misses his dad, but the feeling grows less intense after nine and a half years, and that makes him feel bad. Like he's forgetting his dad. I understand it, but I know he won't forget his dad.
After a few minutes, Aaron went to the car and waited there, anxious to hit the road for home. But Jacob conversed, like an adult, and shed a few tears, like a tender-hearted guy, like his dad.
It's good we went. Doesn't bring him back, which is all we really want, but it's good we went.
On rainy days they hang out in trees, looking for a spot under a big leaf. A little water is nice for a bath, but a lot of water makes flying impossible.
* * *
Sure, the birds have been on my mind, but really that was only a preamble. Some reason I didn't want to start out with this.
No rain today. Sunshine, blue sky, big white clouds. A lovely day. I did not want to go to the cemetery, thinking the traffic would be prohibitive. (That word sounds silly here. Oh well.) And knowing how hard it is for me to go and just stand there looking at the grave stone, thinking anything I might say Wayne already knows, and wishing, as always, he would just come back. Hard to go, you know?
But something kept pushing me to go. So I did.
Went to the store, bought a single red rose, and went out. And I'm glad I did, and glad at just that moment, because when I got there I saw three people I love. Andrew and two of his sons--Jacob and Aaron. And Lola had been there yesterday and left a bouquet of Spring flowers on Wayne's grave.
We talked, Andrew and Jacob and I. Aaron is a man of few words, but he did say he remembers his grandpa. Well, that's good. And that's nice.
Talking is what you do at a graveside, unless you're alone. I was happy for the company. Andrew says he still misses his dad, but the feeling grows less intense after nine and a half years, and that makes him feel bad. Like he's forgetting his dad. I understand it, but I know he won't forget his dad.
After a few minutes, Aaron went to the car and waited there, anxious to hit the road for home. But Jacob conversed, like an adult, and shed a few tears, like a tender-hearted guy, like his dad.
It's good we went. Doesn't bring him back, which is all we really want, but it's good we went.
1 comment:
I'm glad to read this.
Post a Comment