There is one place where her absence comes locally home to me, and it is a place I can't avoid. I mean my own body. It had such a different importance while it was the body of H.'s lover. Now it's like an empty house.
The rocky terrain; the violent wind wreaking havoc on
everyone's hair; the cemetery in the middle of town way
up on the hill; the ambulance parked in Rick's driveway Monday
through Thursday, and Terry's driveway Friday through Sunday.
earth and the sky felt different than any place I'd been.
We buried my Nan's ashes next to her parents.
Her husband was way across the cemetery, the weeds grown over his
grave like some sort of movie villain. “Oh Grandfather, what in the
hell is going on here, somebody's got to clean you up”. My cousin
Heather gardened his plot with her bare hands until it looked almost
acceptable. I remember saying the wrong thing, a few times, to
relatives I hadn't seen in years. I never know what to do or say at
funerals; where to put my hands. We went to a dinner thing, and then
each to our respectable lodging.
Ours was a an old motel with a
smoking room. My dad told a story about breaking into the …