June 2, 2008

• Gentle memories

  I finish washing the clear vase and fill it with clean, cold
  water from one of the many taps in the cemetery.   My sister carefully cuts the flowers and trims
  the lower leaves off the flowers before putting them into the vase.  I watched as one car pulls up and park behind
  a long row of cars.   An elderly man slowly pulls himself out of the
  car, grabs a small bouquet, a newspaper or magazine and a small lawn
  chair.  He’s somewhat overweight and
  slowly ambles to his destination, both his arms full.   He
  glances over my way briefly, looks back down and continues walking.  

  My sister calls my name  to let me know she’s done.  I carry the flowers over to my mom’s site while
  she tidies up.  My brother and my sister
  in law have also been here and they too have left flowers.  I carefully position the flowers and wait for
  my sister to come over. 

  By this time, the elderly man is sitting down on his chair.  He is leaning forward, his arms slowly moving
  as if he was in a conversation.  I look
  up at the blue sky filled with puffy white clouds.  It’s a beautiful day.  A cool breeze gently tickles the leaves of the trees and they rustle in laughter.    I watch the elderly man continue his
  chat.  I look back at my sister and she continues
  to putter about.   My mom was always a patient listener – a perfect
  foil for my somewhat high strung sister who always needed to vent.  I start to amble around and look back at the
  elderly man.  He’s finished and folding
  up his chair.  As he returned back to the
  car, I noticed that his pace was a bit faster and his steps just a bit lighter.  Or perhaps it was just my overactive imagination.
  

  • 11:52 PM
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