Post by paulette on May 1, 2017 13:39:23 GMT -6
Over this weekend, I drove (about 2 hours) to visit a friend who lives upisland from me. My favorite radio station fades out about 1/3 way there and rather than struggle to find CBC on another frequency - and enduring blaring pop and Indiepop stations meanwhile, I just TURN IT OFF. So I observe what there really is. Trees, flowering plants, cloud shapes...and I talk to myself. More accurately, one part of myself talks to another part. Out loud of course...I'm not bothering anyone or setting myself up for a crazy diagnosis. So...My thoughts turned back to a friend of mine, now dead about 10 years. She was a convener of friends and laid out a lavish table for us. I ended up talking with my friend about people who had had significant effects on my life - and Dixie (now dead) was one. I missed her and I used to go stand by her grave and talk to her. Then I would say, "Let's get out of here, I'll buy you a beer." And I'd walk to my car, open the passenger side, close it, and then get in on my side. I knew that if in fact, she was hanging out around her grave, it was simply because I had invoked her there. Good as anywhere - quiet. But depressing after awhile.
So I had thought in the car that Cinco de Mayo (her birthday) was approaching and we used to go to the her gravestone and have a picnic (a very relaxed old cementery). Her grandchildren would run around eating sugary things that their hoannary grandfather (first nations) would bring them, as well as toys. Everyone got a toy. And her daughter showed up with food and lawn chairs and yes, we drank some beers or whatever and sat in spring sun.
Well...Didn't happen for a few years - her daughter was taking full-time course at her community college. Noone was invited and we all kinda...forgot about it. But as the year turned this spring, I wanted to go visit (and still can). So I told my friend about my relationship with Dixie (complex) and how much I appreciated the kindness of a plate of leftovers as I dropped by after a long day's work and commute, about to go to my empty house with probably not much in the refrigerator.
Today on Facebook, her daughter had announced that the house that had been Dixie's home has finally sold. It was old and wooden and no doubt needed a lot of repairs. It had a huge over-grown garden with escapee plants thriving everywhere. The daughter lived about two hours drive away, and was vastly relieved to be rid of it.
But Dixie- well Dixie just maybe needed to check in with a friend who still remembered the good times on her deck, listening to old music and eating her excellent food. To be appreciated still in my mind (OK I'm crying now). Her house/home had been sold. Another piece of what tied her to places in this time and space. I will go to the graveside and bring her one perfect rose. As much for another else who might come by later as for Dixie. Just so they know that someone who loved her had come by earlier.
So I had thought in the car that Cinco de Mayo (her birthday) was approaching and we used to go to the her gravestone and have a picnic (a very relaxed old cementery). Her grandchildren would run around eating sugary things that their hoannary grandfather (first nations) would bring them, as well as toys. Everyone got a toy. And her daughter showed up with food and lawn chairs and yes, we drank some beers or whatever and sat in spring sun.
Well...Didn't happen for a few years - her daughter was taking full-time course at her community college. Noone was invited and we all kinda...forgot about it. But as the year turned this spring, I wanted to go visit (and still can). So I told my friend about my relationship with Dixie (complex) and how much I appreciated the kindness of a plate of leftovers as I dropped by after a long day's work and commute, about to go to my empty house with probably not much in the refrigerator.
Today on Facebook, her daughter had announced that the house that had been Dixie's home has finally sold. It was old and wooden and no doubt needed a lot of repairs. It had a huge over-grown garden with escapee plants thriving everywhere. The daughter lived about two hours drive away, and was vastly relieved to be rid of it.
But Dixie- well Dixie just maybe needed to check in with a friend who still remembered the good times on her deck, listening to old music and eating her excellent food. To be appreciated still in my mind (OK I'm crying now). Her house/home had been sold. Another piece of what tied her to places in this time and space. I will go to the graveside and bring her one perfect rose. As much for another else who might come by later as for Dixie. Just so they know that someone who loved her had come by earlier.