Not to be a downer going into the weekend, when moods are supposed to be giddy with happiness at the prospect of two days off after a hard week of work, but I just had to type this one up.
My Dad had a stroke on New Year’s Eve morning. Yesterday was his 80th birthday. His only Grandson died in an accident on February 20th.
Tonight after dinner, he went to his room to lay down for a bit. After a short moment of silence, he came back into the kitchen and asked if we could go visit his Grandson Adam.
“Of course we can, give me just a minute”
He went and sat in his car and waited while I finished a cleaning task or two in anticipation of other family visiting tomorrow to properly celebrate Dad’s birthday.
The cemetery is only a mile or two from the house. No one else was there visiting, seeing as how it was six-o’clock on a Friday evening. It was quiet, the birds were chirping, and the sky was blue.
We stayed for but a short while, he painstakingly bent over to remove a lone dandelion that was encroaching on Adam’s temporary headstone.
As I pulled his car back onto the simple gravel road, he looked to his right and said “Goodnight Adam”.
It’s hard to type, it was even harder to drive a car, when your eyes keep swelling-up with tears.