I went to my Dad’s grave today. I’m always stunned by the silence although given its full of dead people I get it. I don’t like the silence but I get it. His headstone looked bleak, without flowers it looks like nobody visits but I do. You can see where I stand, my feet have worn the grass away. You can see where I kneel to whisper- to him, the ground beginning to expect my weight. Even when the ground is wet I kneel. I know he can’t here my whispering but I still do it. I know exactly what he’d say in reply. I just wish he was here to say the words.
My Dad taught me how to cook & we spent many hours in the kitchen together. Our kitchen really was the heart of our home as is mine. I love when we’re all in my kitchen, we have a great time & stay way longer than we should. When the kids leave & I sit at my table alone I often think of my Dad. He’d have loved being in amongst the chaos of mealtimes. Life goes on but o how I wish we could go back in time. I wouldn’t need to stay long except I’d never want to leave.