Tuesday, August 18, 2015

12 years ago...

One of the greatest tragedies in this world as I know it...is that my children never met their Grandpa Bill, and that he will never meet them. They would have SO enjoyed each other.  My dad never lost his childlike playfulness.  He loved acting silly and "performing" for random kids to make them laugh, and they would often get in trouble with their mommies for it!

But in his absence, there's a certain little chubby boy with a space between his teeth and a gleam in his eye...genes don't lie.  And every time he's a little ornery, I can say I know where it's from.

I'm not fond of posting pictures of my children on the internet, facebook or any other such place...but this one is just too sweet.  We went to the cemetery to visit dad yesterday and the first thing I noticed was the sea of dead, yet colorful, man-made flowers.

Have you ever seen a "fake flower graveyard" at a cemetery?   On the Triumph Bonneville in the picture below, my dad and I rode through a cemetery and he took me back to see the "flower graveyard".  It was a mammoth mountain of disintegrating plastic and silk which has stuck in my memory to this day.  (Of course, I wanted to dig in it!)  The idea tickles my artistic funny bone and makes me think deeply...(what else is new?)


I see the flowers as more of an offering to God with our prayers for the deceased and it seems more fitting to offer something God-made. We brought colorful zinnias and a delicious edible herb from our yard...and they'll turn brown and fall over and perish, that's reality. 

But unlike a plastic rose that will get tossed in the trash heap, real zinnias and dill will die and drop seeds into the ground.  In the spring they will sprout up, and even though they will get mowed down before they get a chance, they're there nonetheless!

Maybe next time I visit I will transplant a MINT plant by dad's headstone, they'll never get rid of that!  The gift that keeps on givin'...and such a lovely scent when you mow over it.

Miss you dad.  Requiescat in pace.

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