As I have written before, through my losses, I find solace in my frequent visits to the cemetery. I have a routine that almost makes it feel normal visiting my mom and siblings there. I bring the flowers, I write messages of love on their stones, and I even bring coffee and diet coke. I can then settle in that way. Then, I read, take a nap under the trees, write, and think. It isnt always thoughts of death. In fact, much of the time I am just thinking about what I need to do the next day. Little things of nothing, but just the act of every day chatter in my head gives me a feeling that all is well - that this is just the way it is supposed to be. This has become my routine, but every once in awhile, I get something in return; a gift of sorts. This happened a few days ago. I was laying in the comfort provided by the aspens over me. I heard a car arrive, but it was far enough away that I didnt even look. The car door shut, and the steps were uneven. What I didnt realize was the close proximity we actually were to each other. I was easily able to hear the words he began to say. I did look up then. He leaned heavily on the cane that seemed like more of an appendage than an aide. He was so skinny he looked bony, even through the loose jeans and the untucked lumberjack shirt that had faded through the years. He was unshaven, his hat dirty, but still placed over his heart: the greatest show of respect. I thought it may be his wife, but then I saw the military emblem and the flag. He had lost his child. I wanted to leave, knew I should in fact. But I was going to make more of a distraction gathering all of my belongings and making three trips to car than if I just sat silently. Swooping the diet coke, markers and coffee all up in one action just wasnt going to happen. I opted to lay silent and still. I didnt hear everything, but what I could hear went something like this: “I miss you every day. Your Mama isnt well. I ‘spect you will be welcoming her home soon. She seems anxious to get going. I know it is because she will see you soon. I will miss her, just as I miss you. But she just never could get over you leaving us like you did. She never did understand or forgive God for either her illness or your death. Anyway, she won’t ever get better. I probably won’t be that far behind. The doc says my blood counts are all wrong. Listen, Mama doesnt know that, so if we could just keep this between us two guys…” He had gone quiet. I looked over to see him with his face in his hands, his protruding shoulders shaking with sadness. He wept in complete mime. I couldnt hear a thing. He hadnt left flowers, he took some time staring at the stone after gathering his grief, did a salute that brought me to tears, and left. He never seemed to notice me. He got in his old truck, the engine rattling as it attempted to turn, and he drove away. I took a Lily from my Mom’s stone and placed it at the marker of a fallen man. Before I turned to leave, I bent low. “Will you tell my Mom hello as well?” I had the best feeling that she got my message. It was a great feeling indeed. Christopher’s funeral is Saturday. Pray for him and the family. You guys are the greatest ever! Let’s talk again tomorrow. I will bring the coffee. -Ruth #love #respect #troops
Posted on: Thu, 09 Oct 2014 21:39:21 +0000
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