Presumably it's a bit warmer where you are than it is here. It actually snowed this morning for a bit. No accumulation, grant you, but it is May. But it is also Wisconsin, I guess. You know how it goes.
Well, it's been a while. How are things in Purgatory or the First Circle or wherever it is you are? One reason I am writing is to let you know that you've finally been laid to rest. Or, rather, your ashes have. I went down to Fairfield last week. You see, Gene had your ashes for a while and he decided to have your remains buried down in Fairfield with Edna and Dorinda. And so, finally, last week the deed was done. Your cousin Lewie spends about half the year in Florida near Gene & Sally so he brought back the ashes with him last month and set things up at the cemetery. It was a bit weird as I found myself really wanting to go. I was very anxious the two days prior to the burial. I just wanted to get down there, meet Lewie and Mary Jane, and just discover what was to be had. Ever since your death, talking with people who knew you has been a treat, in a certain way, because I got to hear stories which helped put the puzzle of you & your life together for me. And this trip was no exception.
Meeting Lewie and Mary Jane was an absolute pleasure as they were so friendly. For a moment, I had to wonder if Lewie was really related to you as he had none of your misanthropic tendencies. I showed him some pictures that I found at your house and he was able to identify one of them – it was your grandmother. Not surprisingly, he launched into many a story about Edna and you in your youth. It was really fascinating for me. For instance, I never knew that you were so close to your grandmother and basically lived with her for a summer. Lewie also told me how he "accidentally" gave your grandfather the nickname of "Dad" and your grandmother "Mama's Dad" and how they stuck. They gave me a tour around town and showed me where your grandparents lived and where Ed worked. And I got the story of how Ed died there from an aneurysm back in the 1940s. Work will do that to you, I guess. I also got to meet Lewie and Mary Jane's son, Kent. I had no idea that they had a family business and that Kent was the fifth generation.
Another thing that I didn't know was that you went down there to visit a couple years after Joni's death. With more than a hint of regret, Lewie said that you and he basically lost touch after you and mom married. He told me a funny story about your wedding reception. He said that he was chatting with (my) grandma – mom's mom – as the band was playing a polka. He asked her if she danced the polka and she replied that she did when she was younger but, since her knees had started giving her trouble, she'd stopped. Then someone came up to her and said, "Pearl, let's dance!" She was led away and shook her booty!
The actual ceremony for your burial was brief. (Oddly enough, it had rained the day before and it held off until it was done.) There were only four of us but I'm sure you'd still bitch that it was too crowded for your liking. It was a bit odd to have a Methodist minister (or whatever they have) do his spiel as you were an atheist and I am as well. No biggie. As he spoke, I just stared at the box that contained your ashes. As the ministered babbled on about Jesus and the mystery of death, my thoughts wandered to the fact that you no longer had life. There's no mystery for me about death. Your heart stopped – where's the mystery in that? Tears welled in my eyes as I thought about how only 4 people were there. I guess I wasn't expecting it to match the last funeral I was at – my great Uncle Harry last year – but it saddened me. What really hurt me was that you died alone. Even more than a year after your death, I still cry when I think about it. The image of you lying there on that sidewalk…it's one that's hard to get out of my mind once I put it there. That image…it stood in such stark contrast to how I felt after having finally met some family that I never knew about and having been made to feel so incredibly welcome by them. How they talked about all these family members that I barely knew or never even met. Lewie and Mary Jane made me, both by their openness and the stories they told made me feel something I don't feel very often – like I'm a part of a family. It's nice to feel those kindred feelings, to know that I'm part of something bigger than I am on my own. Towards the end of the ceremony, I made some remarks. Basically just random, unrehearsed bits about how it saddened me that you died alone but how thankful I was that there was an upside to it all. I got to meet some new family.
Afterwards, we went cruising the area. We ate lunch at Bonaparte Retreat and then stopped in at an Amish general store in Cantril. The area around there is really nice. I was expecting it to be more like the center part of the state, namely, very flat and lots of corn fields so it was a pleasant surprise to see all the gently rolling hills and trees. I really didn't want to have to leave, to be honest. It was a long drive home and work was beckoning for my return. Plus I just felt like hanging around and absorbing the spirit of the place. As I passed out of the city limits, I remember saying to myself out loud, "Well, old man, I got a chance to check out your old stomping ground."
So what else is new, you ask. Well, not really too much. I'm still gainfully employed at the state fixing their PCs. And, since the last time I wrote, I'm still waiting for spring. If it ever warms up, we're gonna go cruising the lakes on our pontoon. I can't recall the last time I wrote but I'm now officially single again. I broke up with my girlfriend in December only to start dating her again in January and broke up with her again in March. A real soap opera, I tell ya. Somehow we've remained friends – the first time I've been able to do that with an ex. It's funny because I think I've pretty much resigned myself to a life of perpetual bachelorhood. I know how you couldn't stand not having a woman in your life. I guess I didn't inherit that gene. You know, there's never a day that goes by that I don't think of you for some reason. Often times I catch myself doing or saying something that came right out of your playbook. It's a funny feeling to see so much of you in myself. I think I've gotten to the point where I understand and accept that you're gone. But, when I think of you, when I picture your face in my mind, it still doesn't register. That part of my brain hasn't yet caught up, I suppose. The lines on your face are so clear in my mind's eye and I expect to see you again, to see that those lines are deeper and that some new ones have appeared. I still expect to watch as you grow old even though I know perfectly well that that will not happen. On the plus side, I no longer expect you to call or to be able to dial your phone number and hear your voice on the other end. It's odd how the brain deals with loss, isn't it? Anyway, I'm playing the field again, though not particularly seriously. There's a (very) small group of women that I flirt with on a regular basis and I don't stand a chance with any of them. One is way out of my league. She is stunningly gorgeous and knows it. Thusly some goofball PC tech is not going to even get a chance to bat. She tolerates me because I frequent the joint where she works. Another is a co-worker who finds me amusing so she leads me on in exchange for entertaining her at work. You and mom, heck, Carl too, are so normal so how did I get to be so odd? We'll never know, I suppose.
Ever since I committed you back to the earth, I've been feeling a bit depressed. Perhaps "depressed" really isn't the right work. Very pensive. No flirting and just keeping to myself at work. I've been going out and doing stuff as well as hanging with friends, though. When I'm not with them, I prefer to just be with my thoughts. This will blow over eventually. But it feels very frustrating. It's spring, right? I should be going out hitting on every pretty woman I see but, instead, I shy away from them. I guess I'm not in the mood for rejection right now. A friend and I went out for drinks with this gorgeous woman the other night. She and I had much in common and she was just really fun to be with. What did I do? I barely spoke a word. There was just this intense feeling of her being way out of my league. I wouldn't even step up to the plate. Striking out sucks but, when you do so, you bat again. That's the way of the world. But I just prefer to sit on the bench for a while, I guess. Sometimes I think that there's a part inside me that thrives on loneliness. It serves as a focal point for self-inquiry as if I need it to gain understanding of myself. It's as if I can see some kernel of me more clearly than when there are other people around. Being alone sort of exposes something, brings it into the light so I can look at it, turn it about, and study it. Not really sure what that something is, admittedly. I think your death did something similar. When you were alive, our relationship seemed to stand in the way of seeing something about myself and how I want to be. With you gone, I think that something has been thrown into sharper relief. I can stand back and see how you lived your life as opposed how you are living your life. It is easier to connect the dots because the dots aren't shifting anymore. At least not shifting as much. I think I understand my shortcomings much better than I ever did while you were alive and I've changed or am trying to change some of them while accepting others as immutable. I feel that I've learned how to be a better friend, son, co-worker, roommate, etc. (And I'm learning how to be a good honorary uncle too.) I have also learned that my abilities for being a good boyfriend/lover over the long haul are, for the most part, lacking. There's no doubt in my mind that some of these can be improved, that I can change them for the better. On the flip side, though, I feel that my intense desire for companionship is sort of countered by an equally intense desire for solitude. Not perpetual solitude but, when you're in a relationship, you can't really pick and choose when to be alone, if you can be alone at all. It's difficult to describe but there are times when saying that being responsible for the happiness of a girlfriend/wife is anathema to my journey of self-discovery doesn't seem to be too far off the mark. There are times when crawling into bed alone seems interminably sad and times when it feels like the perfect fit. So much ambivalence. I wonder why I choose to err on the side of being alone…? Who knows how I'll feel in a few years. Or even tomorrow.
Well Old Man, I feel exhausted now so I'll close here. I shall try to write you again soon. In closing, I've included a picture of you that you'll recognize. You took it – what? – a day or two before you died? I found it on your computer when I got to your house. I tend to think of your toothless grin here as being the last time I saw you. Granted that it wasn't but I like this picture better than our last real-life encounter in the antelucan hours as you dropped me off at the bus station. You're smiling here – you look happier than I'd seen you since 1998. It makes me feel as if there was hope for you. For us, maybe.
See you on the other side,
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