Tweet
The call of the grave is ever present. Louder for some than others, and muted only by the drive to jive! Our lifestyle choices enhance the one and flirt with the other, but either way, we all meet the Pyre one way or another. Likewise, the wake of those who passed roils from grandiose to simple, guarded by those who mourn. Today was simple. My now oldest "living" brother came to Philadelphia from Harrisburg, picked me up and we went to breakfast. Mine was great but his was messed up. I embraced the rain but he cursed it. We all perceive occasion our own way. We drove to Beverly National Cemetery in NJ, where our parents and youngest brother were interred. Pouring rain all day. My brother drove and cursed the road, while I just laughed. He has done well for himself, a retired (28 year) fuel tractor trailer driver, remarried his sweetheart from his 20's, and now they teach dance lessons from the new 25'x30' addition in their home. They just got back from 2 months in Puerto Rico. "Choices, _____, it's all about choices," he said. "People live or die by their choices in life!" Not without pain, their son was killed in Iraq 3 years ago, as the moisture welled in his eyes today he said, "Luke would be 23 now!" Sometimes they cross the bridge the county renamed in his honor but, "It's not the same," he said, "of wishing he would just walk through the front door!" In the mean time they dance, go fishing and just live as best they can. We found the gravestone under a maple tree near the fence. We scattered our brother's ashes front and back, some to the grass, some to the wind, and some to me because the wind changed! Oh poo, my brother's ashes on my shitty jacket, stuck to me like glue. "That will never come out," I said. Oh sure, now he's laughing! Time to go... Went to visit my Mom's best childhood friend, now 93 and in a home in Darby. He hasn't seen her in a decade, but I had lunch with her a few times a year for the past decade. My Mom died in 1965 but Pauline stayed close to the family; still a firecracker, but there's only one way out of those places... the Pyre. What a lady. Back in the rain with him facing a 2 1/2 hour return home, and us being North Sea/Baltic, food and IPA's were in order. As usual for those who imbibe, there are two distinct types: those who dabble, generally add food, and reasonably stop, and those who, once the tap is open, lay underneath with their mouth open to "not waste a drop!" My brother and I are of the first type, whereas my deceased brother was of the second. In the past, move on, dust on the jacket for a last dig brought a chuckle and a nod." Yes, ok, the last laugh, I can dig it. Well, brother made the call, home safe and no rain at home; go figure, kizmut! Now I'm here, Peak-Muscle, my favorite respite. Darn, could've made over $240 OT bending steel today, but the North wind called, the ship was ready to sail, and the Pyre hesitates for no man. My TRT script was ready to pick up, and embracing life led me to it. The Pyre will have to wait for this Norseman, I've got steel to bend, and life yet to meld...
-
-
Seriously when does this book come out? -
-
I'll pre order it if neededComment
-
I am actually enjoying this one. I understand. Interesting, insightful and still entertaining.
Glad you and your other brother were able to bond. Sounds like a bitter sweet experience. Thanks for putting pen to paper so to speak.Comment
Comment