The Giving Tree

I went to visit my dad yesterday...hadn't been in a while. Parked by the mausoleum at the cemetery. I thought I remembered accurately where my dad's "vault" was. I remember after the funeral, watching with pain as these dirty, sweaty grave yard grunts shoved his casket in there with enough force to....well, make a girl's stomach turn. The memory will never leave my mind...I know the spot. So, I walked to the area...but couldn't find my dad. Had I remembered wrong? I looked over to the spot where I knew I had stood, watching my dad be "entombed." Maybe I was wrong...it had been a while. I've been distracted lately anyway. I get things wrong all the time. So I walked around, my eyes scanning the marble walls lined with names. Around and around. Inside and out. It was sweltering hot. The air was heavy. I was getting nervous - I couldn't find my dad. I kept searching...it seemed like forever. Honestly, I was to the point of near-frantic. What is wrong with me? How can I not know where he is? Then, I saw it. My father's name, right in front of me. And in the area I had first gone to. I did remember. I must have passed that wall 12 times and only saw his name once. I stood there, and tears welled up behind my sunglasses. I told him out loud, "Well, Dad, I'm still lost."

I walked around the perimeter of the mausoleum, looking for something positive I could associate with the place where his body is. It was difficult, though. Seriously, the cemetery is looking bad. Grass needed to be mowed. Landscaping needed to be weeded. Trees weren't looking too healthy. Then I saw a stump. A totally interesting-looking stump:

It reminded me of the tree in Shel Silverstein's book The Giving Tree.

Though the story has scads of interpretations, one of the angles that always hit me - especially as an adult - is the whole parent/child metaphor. Obviously, the tree is the parent and makes lots of sacrifices to enrich the child's life. So, here sits this tree stump, right outside of where my dad's body "rests." This giving tree, which is, in the story, finally happy in the end...as an old stump for the boy to rest on. It totally made me think of the my dad's stubborn sacrifices. It also made me realize that the time we spent together in the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit - the times when it was just the two of us and things were quiet...those were times he was at peace. He was uncharacteristically calm and non-agitated. I still wonder why it was me he was able to relax with, but I'll take it.

And so, I was able to leave the cemetery more at peace than when I arrived. My earlier state of panic was replaced with a more calm, more understanding feeling. And, honestly, I think the whole experience yesterday helped to add a little bit of closure about the feelings I've been struggling with concerning my dad. 

Still miss him like mad.