Memory Day

I went to Misty's grave today. Cru and I. A few weeks ago, the night before Mother's Day, we bought a potted plant--pink petunias--with the intention of taking it to the gravesite the next day. Well, Mother's Day was kind of a rough day for me, and Cru didn't really want to make the trip to the cemetery, so we put it off. And put it off again the next weekend. And, well... Today, since I didn't have work, and Cru was out of school, and, of course, it being Memorial Day, it was a really good day to make the ninety-minute drive to the cemetery in Brownsboro. We put the plant in the ground at the foot of the grave, and cleared some of the dead grass and weeds from the remaining mound. We gathered a few of the fist-sized rocks that were lying around and arranged them where the headstone will go (it's on order... should only be a couple more weeks). In all, we only spent fifteen or twenty minutes there. We turned around and drove the one and a half hours home again. Despite the long trip, I'm glad to have gone.

On the drive home, I recalled that Misty often told me (in our early years of dating and marriage) not to bring her cut flowers. "What's the point," she would say, "they'll just die. If you're going to get me flowers, get the whole plant." Then she would tell me that she had no luck keeping houseplants alive, and didn't like gardening, and that it would just be a waste. So, I felt like I was off the hook for all those years. Of course, later on, she told me that she changed her mind. For her birthday in 2007, while I was traveling, I sent her a small potted purple orchid. She absolutely loved it. She tried her best to keep it alive, but it shortly turned into a dry stick. She was very sad about that. That was the last time I gave her flowers. I'm very sad about that.

I think she appreciates the pink petunias I brought her today. Even if they don't survive long.