Boulder to Birmingham

There wasn't any Memorial Day when I was young. I had Decoration Day, which is what we called Memorial Day, which made sense since that was the day we drove to Vernon Cemetery to decorate my maternal Grandmother's grave.

The fact that there was this whole three day orgy of fun to kick of the summer going on with everyone else was lost on me. I don't remember going to the lake. Or swimming pool. Having a cook-out, or party.

I remember loading up a floral arrangement into the back of our silver Grand Prix (which a kid at school told me meant penis in French) and driving all the way to Coweta, Oklahoma. That drive seemed so long. At the cemetery my Dad, with Mom at his side would pay their respects at his Mother's grave while I wandered around Vernon Cemetery reading grave markers. I've always loved dates, history, and I was especially interested in the grave markers of soldiers. There were a lot too. Many fresh. Vietnam. Oklahoma. The Dead Kennedys were spot on.

At that point in our story my Grandma had been dead for less than a decade. I never met her. She died the year before I was born. All I knew came from Dad's stories and our annual Decoration Day trip to Coweta.

When I was 7 or 8, Decoration Day stopped. I'm not sure why. All I know is that we started having Memorial Day, and like most Americans, it was a more about that three day orgy of fun to kick off summer instead of remembering the dead.

Grief is funny.

And apparently has no statute of limitations.

I'm fine. Or so I think. I can easily skirt something major like Mother's Day. In fact, I can make that cup half full and relish the fact that I don't have to sweat the gift worry stress funk since my Mom is dead. Something good from the bad. Which might sound sick, but fuck me, I feel entitled.

Then, something as innocent as my Lovely Bride unwittingly saying, "Joyce would have gotten the biggest kick out of Wyatt playing Guitar Hero." fells me. Bad.

As usual My Lovely Bride is right. Mom would have loved to have seen Wy rock out to Guitar Hero. I can see her laughing until she quite literally cried, from the joy of it all. She would have loved it...embraced it, dare I say, more than about anyone else. Which is what pisses me off. Wyatt doesn't get to appreciate it first hand. He's already intertwining Granny with Old Granny. Confusing the two because he was two when Mom died. Actually two and a half. Fuck me. Even the Elder Boy's special bond to his Granny grows more tenuous each and every day.

I was in Oklahoma on Father's Day. Visiting Old Granny first and then Pops. On Saturday morning, sitting in the courtyard of his new house I asked my Dad, why we stop going to Vernon Cemetery when I was a kid. How I remembered going every Memorial Day, or Decoration Day when I was little. Then we stopped?

Dad didn't say anything at first. Thinking I guess. It was a strange and random question, so I said, "When did we stop going?" Trying to place the date in my head so I could figure out how long my Grandma had been dead during the years we visited.

"I don't know." Dad said. "You were probably 8, I guess."

We sat in silence for a few minutes as I tried to do the math in my head.

"Why did we stop going?" I asked.

"Because, I don't know, it was expected? What you did." Dad said. "After awhile I realized that it doesn't really matter. You don't have to do it just because you are supposed to. All you do is make the florist rich."

"I understand that." I said. "Like Father's Day, or Mother's Day. It can turn into a Hallmark Holiday."'

"Yes." he replied.

"I was just wondering. Been thinking about it for a while." I said.

We sat in silence again, with me thinking about grief and if there was a statue of limitations, and if that had anything to do with Dad's changing Decoration Day into Memorial Day for our family.

I was about to ask when he said, "I've been wanting to tell you something."

Even though he was sitting in a chair, he leaned forward and put his arms and elbows on his legs, to close the distance between us, when he said, "I asked My Special Lady Friend to marry me."

He used her real name of course, but I don't yet feel comfortable using it here.

"Really." I said.

"Yes." he said, tears welling up in his eyes.

"How long ago did you ask her?" I asked.

"Two weeks."

"And you're just now telling me."

"Yes. I wanted to tell you when I could look you in the eyes." he said.

"I can appreciate that. Congratulations." I said.

"Thank you."

"I'm happy for you Dad." I said, "I am. Glad you found someone, and I still feel the same way I did when I was up her in March and had that big talk. I don't begrudge you any happiness. You were married to Mom for a long time. You took care of her, stood by her when she was so sick. Still. It's weird. You got to appreciate that."

"I do." he said. "Do me a favor and congratulate My Special Lady Friend later when you see her. We've been worried. About telling you."

"Ok." I said. "But why? I doesn't matter what I think?"

"It important to her, she wants you guys to be ok with this. Doesn't want to move to fast." he said. "It's important to me, too."

"I appreciate you wanting my approval Dad," I said, "but you, and your Special Lady Friend don't need it. You do what you guys need to do. I'm a grown man with my own family. I don't care about your money. or any of that. I just want you to be happy."

"I know." he said. "But I do care what you think."

I told the Boy(s) later that day that Pops was going to marry his Special Lady Friend. That afternoon, we all went swimming and the Special Lady Friend swam with Wy and Ethan. It actually reminded me a lot of my Mom, the playing with them, although Mom would have never swam in the pool.

The next morning, Father's Day, everyone got up before me. I was in the guest bedroom of Pops new house while the rest of the Team was in the courtyard. The Boy(s) were in the hot tub. I could hear them talking about stuff, Pops and his Special Lady Friend, the marriage, etc. when Ruby the dog came and nudged my arm so I would get up and take her out front to use the bathroom.

I snuck out front without anyone seeing me, or so I thought, until Ethan came out and said, "Dad."

"Yes Bub." I said.

"You're going to have a step mom."

I smiled. My deep thinker who was worried about me.

"Is that a question or a statement." I asked. "But yes. I'm going to have a step mom. When Pops marries his Special Lady Friend, she'll be my step mom."

"And you'll have a brother and sister." he said.

"Yes, I will." I said, "Pops Special Lady Friend has kids and when they get married that will make them my step brother and sister. Like Mommy has Uncle Marc and Uncle Beau Beau as step brothers. But they grew up with each other. This will be different because Daddy is older."

"Dad?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Will Pops and his Special Lady Friend have a baby."

Laughing, I said, "I don't think so, son. They are to old for that."

Grief is funny.

It doesn't make sense.

It makes you.

Until I BLOG again...I watched it burn.