On Memorial Day weekend, I make a trek back to my father's grave. Kneeling beside it, I inevitably think back to the first time I came and found a small piece of masking tape attached to a stick with three words: "He left friends." At the time, there was comfort in a message left by a stranger.
But over the years, as more people have found his grave, there seems to be no end to what they leave. I've had to take a bag to collect the items as they have begun to block my father’s name and mar the stone. To date, some of the things left are as follows: a blue lighter; coins; a Canadian dollar bill; a heart shaped glass stone; a silver lighter; marbles; a piece of driftwood; two movie ticket stubs; a pack of Pal Mal cigarettes; a baseball; a pencil; an angel statue; matches; a business card from Kelly somebody - a tattoo artist. She wrote on the back: "We still love ya. RIP"
And so this weekend, I went prepared with my bag. There were the normal items, the memorial stones and coins, the tickets, a key, a bottle of wine, a brass pipe, a bracelet but there was something else this time. A letter tucked into a yellow envelope.
And as I walked away, I thought back to that piece of masking tape and those words. They didn’t survive a winter; the words faded and the tape was eventually gone but they still offer comfort because my father has indeed left friends.
But over the years, as more people have found his grave, there seems to be no end to what they leave. I've had to take a bag to collect the items as they have begun to block my father’s name and mar the stone. To date, some of the things left are as follows: a blue lighter; coins; a Canadian dollar bill; a heart shaped glass stone; a silver lighter; marbles; a piece of driftwood; two movie ticket stubs; a pack of Pal Mal cigarettes; a baseball; a pencil; an angel statue; matches; a business card from Kelly somebody - a tattoo artist. She wrote on the back: "We still love ya. RIP"
And so this weekend, I went prepared with my bag. There were the normal items, the memorial stones and coins, the tickets, a key, a bottle of wine, a brass pipe, a bracelet but there was something else this time. A letter tucked into a yellow envelope.
And as I walked away, I thought back to that piece of masking tape and those words. They didn’t survive a winter; the words faded and the tape was eventually gone but they still offer comfort because my father has indeed left friends.
This is your new blog post. Click here and start typing, or drag in elements from the top bar.
RSS Feed