Today I visited my father. He didn’t say much, in fact he said nothing. He is like that, and has been since he passed away several years ago.
I know that opening sentence is a bit callous, but, I can tend to be a bit glib when talking about my folks.
I still miss them and think of them often. Each time I pass the apartment where my father lived, I look up on the deck to see if he is still there. I chide myself each time I do that, but, still I do it.
Today, hubby and I were out and about. I asked if we could stop by and visit my Dad. He drove up and parked. We walked up to the grave and I looked down at the stone. There was his name, his birthdate and date of death. Underneath was listed Sgt. AACS WWII. Beside his stone was a flag. Hubby straightened the flag and we paid our respects.
I know it changes nothing when I go to visit my folks. I know they do not know that I am there. But, a part of me needs to visit. I need to see their graves, and take a moment to remember them. To stop my day and remember. Most of the time those moments last maybe three minutes in length.
The older I get the more I wonder how I will be remembered. Will I be remembered for grace and laughter and help? Or will there be moments that are not my best that will be brought to mind?
I remember good things about my folks. Times that were nice. But, honestly, I still remember some not so great times also. I guess that is life and memories, good and bad and ordinary.
Anyhow, I always pride myself that I can visit my folks and not get into any arguments anymore….
Thanks for stopping by, DAF