thelastasthmatic

we buried the last of my grandparents today. my dads mother would have turned 94 this may, three times the span o my life. my dad broke down when she died but found his strength by the time all of us kids made it to east Tennessee. he found solace being with her when she died, and in the legion of family that showed up to her funeral.

i spent the night at a cousins house with my brother, sister, and brother in law after the viewing last night. my brother and I stayed up until 3 this morning polishing of a bottle of seagrams number 7. we havent spoke more than a few sentences in the past couple of years, so our candid dialogue was interesting. we talked quite a bit about family and relationships, and how much our parents want grandkids. i found out a few more dark secrets from our past, and saw a few new sorrows on my brothers face.

we all choose the path we walk. my brother made choices out of anger and spite and fear. my father affected some of those decisions in a terrible way, but by no means forced my brother into the life he led. the humor in my brothers eye glazes with loss as the alcohol fills him up. the one thing he sees that offers redemption is having children. he regrets not having one when he had the chance, and encouraged me to have them soon.


it doesnt work that way, though. does it?

this morning had a detached quality to it (no doubt from lack of sleep and previously consumed alcohol), with some moments standing out like images in a dream that refuse to go away with the first rays of the sun. my dreamy state lost my driving privileges- i was so intent in looking at the people gathering behind the church on the hill i failed to notice the 5 cars stopped in front of me, waiting to pull in. we walked to the gravesite to find my parents. we were a few minutes early. everyone was spread in a large half circle around the grave.

i stood behind my mom with my hand on her shoulder. for some reason, i saw a picture without me: my father sitting in a row of chairs talking with relatives; my brother standing with cousins; my sisters and their husbands in a loose ring around my mother; all of them looking at the grave. i followed their gaze to see a great marble slab with my family name engraved in black, a pile of brown-red clay reaching to the height of the white and silver casket. no one was crying or overcome with grief, they just looked at this bookend of life made of earth and stone.

that image was the centrifuge of so many thoughts: the life my grandparents lived. my father breaking down on the phone at the hospital. how beautiful my mom looked in the sun. my sisters husbands standing beside them. my brothers drunken reflections. and, of course, the path that led me here. the path that appeared in that instant as a line of faces that started right beside the grey stone marker and pile of dirt to stretch off in the valley below.

my family, in that moment, appeared to see the same thing. my life was seen in this reflection of death. my dreams appeared at the resting place of men and women who dream no more.

the breeze turned the page, and the burial was over. we said our goodbyes and headed for our cars. i didnt look back as we walked away-i closed my eyes for a minute and turned my face to the sun.


today is the greatest day ive ever known...