Day Two of Unemployment

Typically you start on Day 1, but as most of you know I am not your typical, protocol following person. That and Day 1 only consisted of a 6 mile bike ride, where I wasn't even chased by dogs, and unpacking procrastination. Day 2, today, has been a little more on the unusual side.

Forced out of bed before noon, my mother took off today hence the early rising, I pull some clothes out of the pile from school that has not been properly organized yet (odds of that happening anyway... slim to none), get dressed, and jump in the car. My attitude these days are semi-comparable to that of our dogs. A trip to town! What?! A chance to see the outside world and hopefully human contact. Guess what. I got to drive too. Yeah all the way to Dallas. :-)

This trip meant a chance to get out of the house and a full tank of gas, but it wasn't fun and games. We drive to South Oak Cliff and pick up Granny. She's already waiting due to my extra five minutes of stretch time this morning. Dressed in a blue floral pant suit she sits in her chair finalizing some checks and making a plan for the errands that need to be run. Today was the day. One year, 365 days, whichever way you want to look at it, she lost the man she had been married to 3 months shy of 60 years. Not a trip destined for joy, but that of remembrance, sorrow, and loneliness.

It's been almost 365 days since I played my trumpet. Taps at his funeral was the last thing that I could make come out of that horn. Maybe soon I can pick it up again. I hadn't been to the grave since they'd laid the grass. The DFW National Cemetery is impeccable. If you've never been, you should. Flowers after flowers, flags everywhere, tombstones lined up perfectly. For the wives of dead soldiers they take it on as their new duty to keep the headstones nicely decorated and patriotic. My Granny makes sure that almost every week Papa has something on his grave. She goes out there, washes it, lays out her newest collection of ornaments, and has a visit. Today she didn't stay long. Just enough time to arrange the balloons we got at some ghetto dollar store and have a little chat with Papa. She said he didn't say anything today, but why would he. He stopped talking years before his death. Despite what she is feeling, she still manages to put in comic relief and make fun of his stubborn character.

We left the cemetery, not talking much, but remembering. Then in the oncoming traffic a funeral procession starts its long route down to the cemetery. I pulled over quickly and put my flashers on like one car before me. For some reason though, the cars behind me just passed us, flying down the road. No respect whatsoever for the one who died and served our country. Of course I knew nothing about the person who lay dead in the hearse across the road, whether or not he was a good person, but he still deserved respect, young or old, mean or nice. I remember a year ago when people did the same thing. They didn't think outside of themselves, just passed as fast as they could trying not to look.

We are living in a day more concerned with our own personal agenda and the constant going, than that of respecting and honoring those who have done something greater with their lives. We've forgotten to stop for funerals.