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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Metamorphosis
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"That'll be 13 bucks even, buddy."
I peel out a ten and a five and hand it to the driver. Sometime i have
them wait, but something tells me that I won't a cabbies services for
a while today. "Thanks and have a good one.", I reply.
"Hey same to you," he says as I close the cab door.
I fold my newspaper up under my arms, and stare at the sky for a second.
It is a perfect day. I couldn't ask for anything better. Not a cloud to be
seen. At least Mother Nature will not interrupt my search for solace.
It is May 30th, 1998. I am standing on the road side to lot 8 at the Fort
Logan National cemetery. My mother is buried out here. So is a piece of my
soul. The time is 10:56. In exactly 4 minutes it will have been 3 years
since I buried my Mother. I don't mean for it to sound selfish, as if I
was the only one here or anything. My family was here. My father, sister,
extended family and so on, but I felt like I took the weight of the world
on my shoulders those 3 days after she died. I took care of everything.
From the selection of the casket to finding a Jewish Rabbi that would
perform a ceremony for a non-jew, which was no mean feat, to finding six
people who would do my the honor of carrying my Mother to her final resting
place. O am not sure when I chance to grieve or if I ever really did. A
sadness still haunts me.
I walk into the neatly organized rows of finely polished marble head stones.
They are all identical. Military organization, I would imagine. Frankly I
like it that way. No creed or monetary standards established. Everybody the
same.
I have never bothered to memorize exactly where my Mothers head stone is. I
like to walk among the other head stone. I like to see the things that have
been left behind. I stop at one with a bouquet of flowers and a small Mickey
Mouse statuette. A smile comes across my face. I remember the funeral for
a moment. I wore a Mickey Mouse tie to the funeral. My Grandmother was
appalled. Personally, I think that my Mother would have loved it. Sometime
I think that too much seriousness is attached to Death. Apparently someone
in CPO John J Poey's family agrees.
I walk down a few more rows and across some head stones. I see various
things left behind. About one in every five headstones have something there
by it. Flowers are the predominant item left behind. A smattering of flags
and pictures and odds and ends are arranged, with obvious care, near and
around many of the headstones.
It is 11:01 and I find my Mother. I see the words "Everyone please be
seated. We are gathered here today not to mourn, but to remember a Wife,
Mother and most importantly a woman that was important to all gathered her
today." I look down and see Penelope J McDonald. Born Dec 23 1946 Died May
30 1995. There is a touch of grass stain near the bottom of the head stone.
The smell of the fresh cut grass permeates the air. I never lived in a house
with a lawn. I always associate this smell with my Mother.
"I miss you," I say as I start to choke up. I reach into my back pack and
take out a couple of pictures. There is one of my dog, who she left behind
in my care. I take out a postcard of various animals from a zoo. She always
loved animals and always had them around. Finally I take out a picture of me
at my last vacation. This is simply a reminder that I have chosen to live
my life instead of feel sorry for myself. I place then side by side and they
stretch almost the width of the stone. Finally i take out a newspaper and
sit down in front of her stone.
I have taken to reading a newspaper to her. I tell her the stories of the
day. I don't believe in God, but she did. I feel as though when I read to
her, I am reminded that she is in a better place. A place free from Human
Tragedy, Suffering, and Mistreatment. She is in a place when Money and
Greed are not God. A place where there is no worries about where the next
meal is going to come from or people are taken advantage of. She is in a
place of eternal bliss and harmony. At least that is what i choose to
believe.
I read most of the main section. I skip over most of the rest of the paper.
I place the rest of the paper back in my backpack, and take out a chocolate
bar. A Hersheys with Almonds. Her Favorite. I place it on the top of the
headstone. I KNOW that she will never taste it or eat it, but I know that
she would have appreciated it.
It is 12:18. he funeral would have been over by now and we all would have
been gathered at a Denny's down the road. I would have been climbing the
walls dying to get out of there. Away from all of those people. People who
didn't know my Mother like I did. People who didn't see my Mother suffer
those last few terrible weeks. People who only came to respect the dead,
not to celebrate my Mothers life. I don't remember much from that lunch.
The only thing that sticks out to me was some unknown Aunt who, as I was
getting up to leave asks "Are you going back there today?"
I replied "Yes I need to get the flowers to the resting area."
She grabbed my hand and before I knew what was going one she pressed some
money into my hand. "Would you please get her some flowers for me when you
get a chance."
I don't know if the embarrassment shone thru like a lighthouse on a clear
night. All I know is that I lost all respect for humanity. I was never so
ashamed for another person. I didn't say a word. I didn't buy the flowers.
It is 12:20. I have been here for over an hour. "Mom, I saved your favorite
for last. I never understood how a woman of God could ever like horoscopes.
Maybe you say the humor in them that I see. Anyway here is ours. "Today is
a day to be strong. You will undergo a great change in your life." I start
to laugh out loud.
"Well Mom, I think that they are about three years too late."
I gather up my things, and sling my backpack over my shoulder. "Thanks Mom.
Thanks for reminding that this life is too live."
I check my pocket for a quarter and make my way towards to main building.
I've got a cab to catch.
skmcd
skmcd@sni.net
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