Ain’t A Lot of Boys Named Gary These Days…

Ain’t a lot of boys named Gary these days…

Man it’s been a while since I’ve written. But today the pull is strong. 

I heard a new song. Gary by Stephen Wilson, Jr. 

Songs always pull the memories out of hiding…

But grief has its own compass, and it always knows the way. I felt it today.
The pull to visit.

When I stopped, I scanned the rows and rows and for a minute I couldn’t find your name. But then there you were. Steady as ever.

It’s November. That heavy season.
The dark season.
The “thinking about you more than usual” season. The holidays
The missing you season.

Twenty-six years next June.
How the hell does time do that?
It sure as shit doesn’t go straight. It zigzags, hits walls, circles back and then somehow we’re supposed to pretend it makes sense.

It doesn’t.

But it’s pretty here.

Forty-four degrees and wind barely four.

The kind of stillness that makes you think maybe the world slows down for the people we loved.

Winter’s almost here.The grass is still holding on to green and the are letting go of what they no longer need. The next season is coming. 

I’m having coffee with you for a few minutes.
Just me talking into the quiet,
wondering if you’d still be funny,
if your laugh would’ve changed,
if you’d still give me that look when I said something ridiculous or flipped me off when you really thought you were being funny. Ain’t a lot of guys like Gary these days. LOL

A groundskeeper stopped by while I was there,
picking up leftover Memorial Day flowers.
Said he knew you.
Said you used to deliver gas to them back in the day.
Said he mowed Uncle Bob’s lawn for ten years as a kid.

Five thousand five hundred headstones.
And somehow he still remembered you.
You were never forgettable.

It’s been a while since I’ve written.
Life gets loud.
But today the pull was stronger than the noise. So I showed up.
The way I know you would’ve wanted me to.

I’ll be back soon, Dad.

See you next time.