A glimpse, cemeteries and birthdays.

April 18, 2020

Coffee, thoughts, music and birthdays.

The coffee is strong this morning. 

The thoughts are coming fast and furious. 

The music is mixed.

The birthdays are happy and sad. 

The coffee has half and half

The thoughts are contemplative and disordered

The music is always on

The birthday is today (Garrett) and the other is Tuesday (Dad)

The coffee is doing its thing

The thoughts won’t stop

The music is helping

The birthday on Tuesday is a milestone

The coffee is strong

The thoughts are connecting – the emotions are flooding

The music is Prince – ironic 

The birthday is 80 — would have been 80

April 18, 2020

The sun is on my face, in and out through the clouds. I hear the chainsaw in the distance. The breeze is slight. The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel is playing. I love that song. I can hear the faint voices of John and Rick off in the distance. The sun is surrounding me. I am soaking in it’s nurturing. My eyes fill with tears. The stress is real. I don’t want to eat. I have no appetite, even as I hear the growls in my stomach. The air smells clean and fresh. My skin is pale and my legs are dotted with freckles. I am still sweaty from my run. The chill is descending on me. Amie by Pure Prairie League is now playing. The honey locust pods still hanging on from winter are rattling from the breeze. The sun is in a cloud and now I’m cold. Three days to 80. 

April 18, 2020

The feeling isn’t shaking. It’s strong. It occupies my thoughts. It occupies my time. I know what it is. I’m denying a little. Not a lot. It’s painful. It’s sad. I still wonder. I wonder a lot. I don’t let that wonder occupy my thoughts and time for too long. What’s done is done. Most of the time these thoughts come twice a year. April and June, those months, the fourth month and the sixth month. Birth day and death day. Every single year for the past 20 years. Two big ones this year. Birth day = 80 and death day = 20. How is that even possible? I was thinking today and wondering why there are no pictures of us. There are pictures of you. There are pictures of me. There are no pictures of us. I’ve been waiting for signs from you. Signs to show me you are here. The cardinal let me know last week and again yesterday. I am keeping my ears and eyes open. I have been waiting for reminders and smells. I’m ready. Now playing is John Lennon – Watching The Wheels Go Round and Round. I’ve just been listening to music today. No TV. No books. Just music. Music heals everything. Music makes everything bearable. It always has. Tuesday I will be visiting and listening to Tabitha’s Secret. 

April 20, 2020

Walmart. The air felt weird. I felt watched. Like I was in a movie watching myself. The noise from the cart wheeling across the parking lot was loud. I heard a Mellencamp song in the distance. Jack and Diane. It was coming from a car that had seen its better days. It was riddled with dents and scratches and scrapes. I could hear the music all the way to my car. The whole day felt weird. 

The wind is howling, but at least the sun is shining. When I was at Walmart I noticed myself buying things I didn’t really need. Pens and Easter candy. The candy was 75 percent off, so a guess a bag of chocolate for 74 cents is a good deal. I will take them to work. I don’t need them here. I bought some bunny repellant since they seem to be eating my flowers that are coming up. The hard-earned flowers. 

April 21, 2020

It’s chilly this morning — 37 degrees. My way to the cemetery was deliberate. I took the long way. About six songs worth. 70s songs. Donna Summer; Magnet and Steel; Let It Ride – BTO; Still The One – Orleans; Don’t Look Back – Boston and Never Can Say Goodbye – Jackson 5. 

The sun is shining and the birds are chirping and singing. I hear traffic and a helicopter. I turned down the wrong lane at first. There is a headstone above his now. The person’s name was Otis something. It threw me off. 

My FB memories popped up and it was a picture, a picture of Dad. Young dad. Boy can I see my kids in that face. I love that picture. 

It’s peaceful here this morning as I sit and sip my coffee. I try to imagine what you would look like. You are still the same fixed in my memory. 60. Too young. 80 now. 

I’m sitting in the car, getting ready to take the ten steps to the headstone. The grass is wet with frost and dew. It’s crunchy beneath my feet. I gently brush off the grass clippings from the stone with my hand. It’s pretty here. I know you like it. The bluffs and the river close by. 

Happy Birthday to you, Dad. 

It seems like there are so many more headstones since I was here last. I saw Mabes McDorman. I saw Bonnie Baade. I saw classmate Bryan Pogany and I saw a good friend today. I saw Mike Hawkins. I stopped and talked to him, his birthday is Thursday.  I can’t believe he has been gone two years already. Miss you friend. 

I drove around several more minutes looking at the markers. So many people I know. 

This time of year always brings about the flood of emotions. It doesn’t get any easier, it just has a slight discoloration. 

I finished the puzzle today.

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