Cathy's Creative Corner: The Visit

Turning onto the road leading to the city cemetery, I can’t phantom all the people I must know who are laid to rest there. Not just family and close friends, but people I would call acquaintances. Those who weren’t a part of my circle but, at one point, touched it. Coming down the hill, I see the gravesites blooming with arrangements, pinwheels, flags. I also see the last tract of land is filling up.

My visits are mostly spontaneous. I will turn off the main road, turn into the cemetery and do a drive-thru, smiling and speaking along the way. Yes, I said speaking. I know… but it’s my thing. My first stop is near the entrance. Parking farther up past the gravesite I intend to visit allows me to speak to others in between. The intended parties of today’s visit are my great aunt and uncle. This week, a picture of their children and grandchildren was posted on a social page I frequent. Made me remember when they were my neighbors and were there for me. I smile when I recall my great-uncle walking around the house at the crack of dawn on Christmas mornings shouting “Merry Christmas!” He went around to all the kids’ windows and then tried to wobble back over to their house before he was seen. He was also there, at the crack of dawn, on September 22, 1989. Hurricane Hugo hit the coast of North Carolina stirring up gale force winds and torrential rain. After being awakened by a crashing sound, alarms and the power going out, my young family ran out of the house to safety. My great-uncle was already standing in his living room with the front door wide open. “I was expecting you,” is all he said. At daybreak, we surveyed the damage. Several trees had fallen on one end of the house and on my car. I’m so thankful he and his wife were there. So every time I get a chance, I have to update and chit chat with them. On the way back to the car, I pass the two brothers of a friend. I speak and continue to my vehicle.

Pulling up a little ways, I reach my parents. My dad’s brother is two sites away. He was like a big brother in my younger years, so naturally, I talk to him. Surprisingly, I don’t speak with my parents as much at the gravesite because we converse every day. Let something happen that reminds me of them, I look up to the sky and smile. We DO keep in touch. Next to my parents are my mother’s parents. My fantasy grandparents! Sometimes it’s hard to believe these two people actually existed. In my eyes, they were perfection! Nana wore dresses and aprons. She had dinner on the table every day at six o’clock and Pa knew to be there. He was a plumber by trade but had the appearance of a company CEO away from work. Always snazzy! My favorite memories involve seeing him pulling up at our house when we lived out of town. He always came bearing gifts! If he didn’t have tickets to take us to the circus, he had the Sears Christmas Wish Book! With the patience of Job, he waited as we individually thumbed through the pages to find just the right present. Needless to say, Christmas morning, all the presents would be under the tree. Yep, fantasy grandparents.

 Now it’s time to move to the newest section of the graveyard. My mom’s sister has been resting there for less than a year. It took some getting used to, not to receive phone calls and cards on holidays and birthdays. She was “that” aunt. My bestie is also resting in this section. That is the one person I cannot talk about without getting teary. I wish life had dealt her a better hand.

I can head out now. I’ve renewed my peace of mind! Next time, I’ll plan to spend more time with others. There’re a lot more people I’d still like to holler at … or should I say, acknowledge.