Between The Lines

I told you that I had to go back to work tomorrow, and I wasn’t sure how it was going to be because I’ve been really out of it for the last couple of months and even though I had people backing me up, I’d probably have a ton of things to catch up on, all while new stuff kept coming in. I wondered if you could hear me better now. Now that you weren’t physically here, but wherever you were. All around me? In heaven above me? What remained of your physical body buried below my feet.

I stepped to the side and said sorry if I'm standing right on top of you, I don't know the etiquette for any of this yet. I imagine it doesn't matter much, the grave markers are in perfectly uniform rows so close together that when I stepped to the side to avoid standing directly over you, I ended up standing on the grave of the person next to you. I don't know which is worse. So I stood on top of you again.

I looked around and thought that this was as good a final resting place as you could have asked for. It’s so close to the mountain that you loved, and right next to the airport. On the way over here I saw a few planes taking off, and I could hear your voice calling out to it, “get up, ha ha, yeah, he got up there quick, didn’t he?” I was a kid again, and you were full of life.

Anyway. Yeah, I have to go back to work tomorrow, so I just wanted to come by and see where you were. When we left your services on Thursday we left you there under the shade of the shelter built for such occasions. Now the sun is bearing directly down from overhead. I imagined you in your MP fatigues guarding the planes on the tarmac across the highway 60 years ago. I'm sure that it was much more uncomfortable then than you are now in the same general area only six feet underground. You would probably want to feel the sun on your face.

I told you that I spoke at your funeral and I said, “I’m not sure if you heard me” and then I thought, well, I guess you heard me as good as you can hear me now if that’s even possible. And I wondered again exactly where you are. And you told me that you were in my heart always, and in the stories that I tell about you, and I thought holy shit! If I can hear you, then you sure as shit can hear me too! And then I smiled, and I felt you smile. I can see you too. You look better in my mind than you did while you were busy dying.

I felt like my mouth was moving, and perhaps I was talking out loud. I wasn’t sure. I was just happy to be able to finally talk to you again. The last few years of taking care of you, showering you, changing your pull-up, feeding you, taking you to Dr. appointments blurred together with very few words between us. I would ask if you were okay, or tell you that I loved you, but most of the time it seemed like you didn’t understand. Once in a while when you would smile at me, I thought that maybe there was still a part of you that knew who I was, or at least knew that I was someone who loved you.

My love walked up to me when I felt my mouth moving, and I wasn’t sure if I was talking out loud, but now I knew that I was crying. She handed me a tissue, and she held me while I wept. You told me that I was lucky to have her in my life, and I thought you were right.

I’ve got to go now, I told you. I’m going to try to rest up for work tomorrow, but I will be sure to come by and visit you again next week. It’s been 12 days since you died, and I miss you so much! And you told me that I could talk to you whenever I wanted, that you would always be there, wherever I was, for all the rest of the days.