I thought I might get some sleep tonight, but that seems beyond me, yet again. This editorial review is extremely time consuming. I’ve decided to rework Circling a bit to match Forever Falling closer in tone and style. It is doable, of course, but very heavy brain work. I’m in overload and as a result sleep has deserted me and probably won’t be back for awhile. In the end I’ll be happier with Circling and it will all be worth the time spent and insomnia.
I was sitting here thinking about the week. Wednesday was the third anniversary of my father’s death. As all families do, mine has a system for remembering and honoring our dead, especially our Dad. As I am the closest geographically to the cemetery, and I choose not to worship in any location, other than the great outdoors, I visit Dad’s grave on birthdays and anniversaries.
My first few visits had me shuffling my feet and looking solemn. This year I realized how bored he’d be with that. I decided to do better. What would be want? He’d want updates, gossip, success stories. He’d love to hear about everyone he loved. So I plunked my ass in the grass and went through every family member from oldest (hi Mom) to the youngest grandchild, and gave him their stories. It felt good. It made me feel closer to him than the shuffling.
After awhile I realized it was getting close the dusk. There was no one in the cemetery but me. You may know I’m not one to venture into deserted areas alone much. That cemetery was different though. I felt so safe. So protected. Maybe because I grew up in New England and there is a cemetery on every other street. I spent most of my childhood smoking cigarettes and drinking hijacked booze with friends, among the dead.
I could have curled up and slept the night through there. I was just thinking it is a paradox. Cemeteries are supposed to be scary places, but they are not. My dad and your dad, mom, aunt, uncle, grandparent, spouses, friends, even sometimes the dearest children, are there. I feel like they are there, protecting us all.