Went to church this morning.
Its 9:45.
Just standing in the parking lot gives me the willies.
Walked in the front door.
Mrs. Malette greets me with that I've just seen a ghost look.
I always liked her.
"Hi Barbara! How are you?"
"I'm really good, how are you?"
I walk past her.
I notice that the message board is missing. Its gone.
She asks me if I would like a bulletin.
I say thank you and take it.
Awkwardly, I enter the sanctuary.
Les Long is at the pulpit. Speaking.
He's sees me walk in.
I make and hold eye contact with him.
Our eyes stay locked, but his words don't skip a beat.
His words..........
.........How sin can not be a part of our lives.
.........How we will all be held accountable someday.
.........How no matter how we try we can never be perfect.
.........How those of us with sin WILL be found out.
.........How parents will pay for not raising their children right.
I hold his eyes with mine. The whole time.
I sit down to the right, the closest possible seat.
Dr. Eddlemon is sitting straight across from me, but doesn't look up.
I wonder if I should give it to him. But decide against it.
So I sit there. And listen for a moment.
I get back up and go back to the foyer.
The message board is missing, redecorating the foyer I see.
"Do you have a message board anymore?"
"Why yes, its in the side room here while we are redecorating. Why? Is there something I can do for you?" Mrs. Mallette holds out her hand.
"I just needed to drop something off." And I motion to the paper in my hand.
There is a black woman standing in the foyer with us, I didn't see her come in, and I don't recognize her.
"Oh Barbara, this is so and so. And so and so this is Barbara."
Mrs. Mallette is still smiling, like she always does. Always so nice.
Black lady greets me without a smile, a weird kind of look, and shakes my hand.
"Its nice to meet you" she flatly says to me.
I nod.
"This is Peggy's sister." says Mrs. Mallette.
I look away and start walking to the side room.
"Would you like me to put something up for you, on the board?"
"Is it ok if I put it up myself?"
"Of course, I think there is one more tack up there" she says.
I walk into the tiny room. The same room I met with the pastor and deacons with christmas eve of 2005 when I revoked my membership. The same room I cried in, they prayed in, and where I cursed god. Where I signed my lease to hell. On the small bulletin board are lists of potlucks, and deacon assignments. And announcements.
I take the one remaining tack and put up Tyler's gradeschool graduation program from last night.
On it is written by me,
"Mr. Klaus was right. Tyler did do very well in public school."
I tack it up and walk out the front door.
I'm crying as I leave, but not for long.
I drive to the music store. Its on the way, almost. I find Rob Zombie and pay for it.
Thunder Kiss is playing at maximum volume as I take the little sidestreets right behind Mill Avenue. That neighborhood we love so much.
I drive the short distance to the school. I turn down the culdesac and park in front. I get out. Walk to the big black mailbox, and place one of the graduation programs inside. Its the only thing in there.
I have one more program to deliver.
Driving through the warehouse/commercial district just south of the school I see mexican bird of paradise decorating the lawns. I pull over, take out my switchblade and slice a few off. See some yellow lantana a little further down the road. Slice me some of that too.
I start crying again, the closer I get.
I turn into the cemetary. Rob Zombie blasting. Drive slowly down the curvy lane. I park by the curve in the road that is my marker. I still have to use the trees to find him. The big one to the west, and the one to the south, where they intersect. I'm surprised to find my mom's flowers still there.
When I was little I used to think it was disrespectful and creepy to walk on someones grave. But now, it just feels right to sit right down on top, as close as I can possibly get.
This is as close as I can possibly get anymore.
I dust the dead grass from off the top. Dust, and swipe, over and over, a little angry that the wind has blown it there. That no one came to clean the grass off, that no one sat guard to make sure nothing disgraced it.
"Hi Dad." I cry.
"Tyler graduated from gradeschool last night. I wish you could have come."
I just sit and cry for a little while.
The grass has almost totally healed, but you can still see the outline. I look at the grass, and think about how he really is down there, six feet away. And I sit on top of him. Its as close as I can get. I check out his view. The trees to the north. The mountains to the south.
"I miss you Dad."
"I'm sorry for all the times I disappointed you."
"If I can talk to you again, I will."
I take the third and last graduation program and leave it on my dad's grave.
"Its getting hot Dad. You would hate it."
I stand up, and tell Dad I will be back again.
Trees to the north.
Mountains to the south.
As close as I can get.
My new high-school freshman.
6 Comments:
Totally made me cry a little babe, you have a way of writing that expresses what you feel. I wish I could give you a moment back with your dad. At least he left knowing exactly how you felt, and he called every little girl Barb wich means he was thinking of you. And as a dad I think he was thiking of you in the highest possible terms. I seriously can envision myself being old and confused and asking for Cheyenne. There is a special bond reserved for fathers and daughters, I don't know how to explain it. Having lived it can tell you it is absolutely the most intense bond that a man can experience. I love you very much, and as a father I know how much he loved you.
You should feel special to find 2 such loves in a lifetime.
You bring us with you on such personal and tragic moments. It is like I'm right beside you as you go to the church, then the school and finally to see your dad. Thank you for sharing the moment. Your dad always lit up when he saw you, and there was a special light in his eyes when he listened to and watched you play that I was always a bit envious of. He would have been so proud of your Tyler. And my, what a boy he has grown to be and as long as you continue to be his mom, and Royce his dad, what a man he will become. - nic
One day, you will see your father again. Take comfort in knowing that your dad rests while he awaits the resurrection day. That's why he had such a peace towards dying. He will be so overjoyed, if you too will be raised in the 1st resurrection with him and enter into the city where there will be no more death, tears. Let us use these last moments of earth's history to prepare ourselves, so we come up in the 1st Ressurection, and not the 2nd.
Angel, I'm sobbing... I've been like a stone for weeks now, working as hard as I can and working out hard helps me cope, but now the tears are streaming down my face and I needed this release. Thanks for sharing this experience- as painful as I know it is. It unlocked me- at least for a little while so I could let out some of the pain I am feeling. I can totally relate to your church visit.
Thanks for this article, for your openness, for your genuine expression.
Cemeteries are interesting places. My wife and I just got back from Germany and while there visiting my wife’s aunt we went to visit the grave site of my wife’s uncle who we were close to and who dies in the past year.
Traditions in Germany are quite different and I think you would like them. On our way to the cemetery we stopped at a huge plant store, tall trees to seeds. We purchased 18 plants and then drove to the cemetery, close to the old Berlin Olympic stadium. Upon arrival we got out all the plants, garden tools, watering can, etc. We had a ways to walk into the large old cemetery with tall leaf trees and old stone, pretty wells, plethora of song birds, hopping rabbits and lounging squirrels. Upon getting to the grave site we dug up all the old plants which are directly in front of the stone and spreading out four feet or so. We worked the soil, planted the plants, took the watering can to the well several times and watered the plants, we talked and remembered. We probably saw 8-9 other groups doing the same thing in our area. Cemeteries there are places where the living spend time, regularly. The families and friends garden the site, including the young. The professional gardeners take care of the larger grounds and sites where there are no longer friends of families available to take care of the grave.
My wife and I are going to be cremated, we have picked out a nice oak tree in our area that we can fertilize and that friends and family can come to if they wish. Our dog loved that tree, and so do we.
Hi. I'm 33 and your son is hot.
:P
I'm way outta line.
And that post brought tears to my eyes, too. I was hooked, all wondering what you were tacking onto the message board in church...
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