When I visit my dad I can't help but smile. I don't cry, though I do miss him. Knowing he is finally free makes me happy. Also, there's a gone fishing sign hanging on a tree above him. This makes me laugh out loud and I hear him join in. The sign is for a teenage boy buried nearby. I polish my father's headstone and it seems like yesterday. When I watched him die with so much dignity and humor. He was tired of being sick. The only hesitation was his family. I felt strangely relieved. While others wept, I smiled, letting him know that I understood. The pain was over and we would all be okay. Wherever he went, we'd be there soon. I went downstairs to McDonalds while we waited for the inevitable. My order number was the same as my father's room. I'm still not sure if that was a wink from a higher power or a warning. I try not to eat McDonalds too much, just in case.
4 comments:
this style of writing is so personal it is hard to comment on. I too had my father die a few years ago.
It is hard to deal with. He was cremated so I don't have a grave to go to.
I think you are lucky you have a place to go to to think about him and to meditate on life, and death.
Thanks for sharing. This personal style of writing is so cathardic. I feel like I've confessed when I read them. Or asked for forgiveness.
Kana's writing was very personal also. I understand why I was not getting many comments earliern with my personal reflection style of writing, when I read your contribution. It's hard to comment on. I feel honored you shared it with me, but don't know how my opinion or a comment would help.
It's like going to an open casket ceremony and someone saying I'm sorry for his death. That is not going to change anything and it hurts me to hear it. Well your being sorry isn't going to bring him back.
Truth of the matter is, I would prefer someone just being there, holding my hand and possibly sharing in a cry.
That's how I felt when I read Kana's post and yours just now.
Oh well. Live and learn. Thanks again.
An excellent meditation to be sure.
Thanks guys. I should have titled this A Meditation On Life because that was what I meant. To me passing away should be a celebration. The sadness I felt was undeniable but was overtaken by the joy and reality of it all. That's what I wanted to express. That's why I tried to lighten it up with a number one with cheese.
I agree. When I visited my father's grave I didn't think of him there in the ground. His cemetery is named Arlington, too! Do I tell the same stories over and over again? Maybe Byron's right. Maybe I should record them or write them down. Maybe we should all do this. I'd love to read my father's recordings. Thanks Kana.
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