June 2, 2021


Dear John.

 Well here we are again.  Its 9 years later and I don't know what to say or what to do but I'm back here at the cemetery.  Just like I (try to) do every June 2nd.

 I usually come here only once a year. There doesn't seem to be much purpose otherwise. I mean it's not like you're really here. You're just here but not. That makes no sense, but then none of this really does.  Which is why I am rambling on in this "letter," which is really just my random thoughts for today

 It's June 2nd again and I never know what to do on June 2nd.  I never know what to say.  I never know who to say it to.  I'm at a loss (ha).

 As always I called Mom and Dad in the morning.  I have to call mom and dad every morning.  After all you're not going to be calling Mom and Dad. (Did you ever consistently call them?  Am I trying to guilt the dead or just make myself feel better?  You know the answer is the later and I'm just going to run with that.)  You left that in my lap and let me tell you I'm a little pissed off that I have to deal with everything all on my own.

 To be honest, it was always going to be me who handled the family issues.  I'm the daughter and it was bestowed on me.  I could say I had no say in that, but that would be a lie too.  But since you’re not here I really have to deal with it on my own and let me tell you it's not fun.  Our parents are getting older and they have health issues.  (Heck, I am getting older and I'm certainly not the person that I was nine years ago) 

 Anyway I called Mom and Dad and I didn't say anything about the date because I never know if I should say anything.  Do I remind them?  Do I not?  What's the right thing to do?

 The answer is there is no right thing to do.   I just let it be.  I just did my average morning chat.  (To be honest, my usual bs) I actually talked to them as I was on my way down to the cemetery and I didn't say anything about that.

 I went down and I have to say the area looked really nice.  (We can thank our awesome cousin Meg for that.  She's "inherited" that responsibility somehow.  It can't be fun and I have to say that I am grateful that she took over the task so that I don't have to.  How's that for selfish?)  However, it's just a place and I don't feel like you (or any of our other relatives) are really there.  I have never felt compelled to go there just to talk to you.  If I want to talk to you (how crazy am I sounding now?) I talk to you in my head.  (I always seem to have a lot to say when I'm out before dawn.)  I do this a lot around this time of year.

 Which brings me to my next point.  (I have a point?)  I do miss you a lot and it irritates me that it's been 9 years and that time is passing and things are fading in my mind. (I'm getting old.)  I have more memories of THIS day and not August 25th which is quite upsetting  It makes sense since I was an adult when you died and just 6 when you were born, but still...My memories of late summer and the autumn of 1972 are so faint, while I can recall exact moments of this day nine years ago.  Precise and painful moments; those are the ones that don't seem to fade away.

 Keeping the focus on me, I also want to say that I still am annoyed that you totally ruined my birthday for me.  Not just in 2012, but pretty much every year.  Now when June comes around I'm not looking forward to my birthday or Dad's birthday but instead I'm focused on this day. You really had a lot of nerve dying 5 days before my birthday. It really sucks!  Ok, death anytime sucks but I wish you hadn't died in June. You know I wish you hadn't died at all but I really wish you hadn't done summer because it's the best time of the year.  Now it starts off crappy because you died. I really wish you hadn't done in the summer.  It was OUR time of year. It was YOUR time of year.  Forget Thanksgiving or Christmas, it has always been about summer.  It was about the beach and crabbing off the dock.  (Which my son loves to do too, but he's more about just catching them; whereas you were all about catching them and eating them.) You should be here.  You SHOULD be years.

 But here were are nine years later, I’m about to turn 55 (which I sure the heck don't want to admit) and you will remain forever 39.  

 I don’t know what else to say.  I’ve run out of rambles.

 I miss you.

 

Beth


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