They Say It's Your Birthday!

My hand felt so small in his.  He led me from the car to the grassy spot next to the pond.  He'd have a paper sack filled with fries in the other hand.  She'd take a seat on the concrete bench a few feet away.  No sooner than we got there, we'd be approached from all sides by dozens of hungry ducks.  They knew we had food.  They knew it was for them.  I'd drop fries in the pond and wait for large fish with big mouths to swallow them up.  I remember being so excited.   He'd go sit next to her and they'd talk about their day while I spent my starchy currency on giggles with feathery fowl.

Sitting on that bench now seemed so distant from that memory.  But I still felt so small.  This time, older and wiser, I didn't feed the three ducks that approached me.  I did take their photo but we didn't interact.  Those people are so far away, this old cemetery is my version of connecting with them.  And, because it's also a cemetery, it was perfectly acceptable to sob uncontrollably while talking to people who weren't there.  No one looked concerned.  I let the tears flow and was uninterrupted.  I thanked them for leading me here.  I hate it when people try to comfort me.  Sometimes, I just want to be sad and I want to feel it.  But being an orphan crying for your dead parents makes others uncomfortable.  They want you to stop. Either because they don't know how to react or they don't want to face that their fates will someday be the same.  Or, it's just awkward.

Sitting in a cemetery, having a meal, taking a stroll, taking photos, walking, giggling, smiling, feeding ducks - those are usually met with sour looks or shock and disbelief.  Or accusations of morbidity.  For me, it's just how it was.  It was and is natural.  My mom introduced me to the practice of picnics in cemeteries.  Later, when I became a volunteer for that same cemetery I learned how normal the idea really was.   learned that so many others share the idea that cemeteries aren't "dark" at all.  That cemetery has been a part of my life since I was still in the low end of the single digits.  And, I hope it always will be.

I took a drive through and stopped at all of our favorite places.  Johnny, Stickle, McMillin... Angels made from various stones for myriads of reasons are people to me.  Each place brought different memories.  This tour was different.  It felt different.  I started in the spot I shared with my parents and ended in the spot where I wed my favorite person.

I left and headed to get some fryer fresh donuts.  I passed where she worked even though the building she worked in has been replaced.  I went down Brown Street where I walked with my friends and brought the Oldest to buy video games.  Drove past my old haunts.  The feeling of being connected again was cathartic.  It was necessary.  It was where I grew up.  And, on the eve of my 40th Birthday, it just seemed right.

It got kind of late.  I got in my new-to-me car (a gift of debt to myself) and started to drive home.  There were 3 ways I could have taken.  The route she always drove, the highway, or the road less traveled.  I chose the highway, to get home faster.  Instead, I took a wrong turn and took the route I needed the most.  Soon, I was driving by places that I had forgotten with memories deep in my brain.  They all lit up like Christmas as I rolled past each one.  The Keyhole restaurant that served delicious bread and had Monkeys dressed like famous people on the wall.  Their old house on Salem.  The hospital where I had my Oldest and Youngest sons.  The store where we used to buy chicken.  Hara Arena where I shared oxygen and a roof with Kurt Cobain, Chris Cornell, Dimebag Darrell, Jeff Henneman, Trent Reznor, White Zombie, The Breeders.... so many other bands that I can't remember at the moment.  I shared those moments with friends who are traveling among the stars now.  I drove past my first apartment, my first home, my old doctor, our dentist, our store.  All these memories overcame me.  That accidental wrong turn was really a much needed sprint through Memory Lane.  (Thanks Mom)

The vast gratitude that I have for every single moment - it's powerful.  How lucky I am that life has taken then turns it's taken.  Even the excruciating days.  I'm grateful for every hardship, every tear, every tragedy.  Just as I am grateful for every smile.  I have seen so much and there is still so much left.