Memories like a tattoo

Today was my late husband’ Ms birthday.  He would have been 59 today. I was handling things okay, especially with Father’s Day coming up this weekend.  I went to my condo on the corner at the shore and it was a glorious day.  The sun was shining and I sat on the beach and listened as the water rode in on the waves.  It was so peaceful.

So much has happened in the past three years since that terrible, terrible June day when the clot took hold in M’s leg.  It was a June day I will never forget  because it changed my life forever.

I thought about M this week as I began to clear out the clutter in my garage in preparations for putting my house up for sale.  I attempted to throw out the orange cones that have been sitting in the corner of my garage for the past eight plus years.

I remember the day M stole the two orange cones from a workmen’s site during the spring of 2003 when our daughter A was learning how to drive.  M used the cones to teach A how to parallel park.  He would take A and the two orange cones to the local high school, place the cones a car’s distance apart, and have A back up the car between the two cones.  He taught her well.  She passed her driving test with perfect parallels.

I used the orange cones four years later when it was time to teach my son D how to parallel park.  M was sick at the time, but his orange cones were put to good use.  Only this time, I had to teach D how to drive. Thankfully, he passed his driving test and continues to be a good driver.

I say I attempted to get rid of the orange cones this week, but the garbage men left them on my driveway.  I guess they were not in garbage bags and the garbage men refused to take them.  I will have to sneak out and put them back on a workmen’s site around my neighborhood.  Or perhaps I will leave them at the high school so another new student driver can learn to parallel park.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” said the Honda General Manager on the voicemail as I checked the phone message when I arrived home this afternoon.  Two small tears fell from my eyes.  Don’t they know M isn’t driving his Honda Accord anymore?  But then again, how would they know if I hadn’t told them.

I am going to spread grass seed on M’s gravesite this weekend to honor the great Father that he was. I think he loved his lawn as much as his two kids so I want his gravesite to be full of grass . He would be proud of how nicely I am keeping up his lawn and managing as a single parent too. The lawn is still green and both kids are doing well.

Yes, M has been on my mind these past two weeks of June as I clear out the clutter and start to think more about moving on to a new home.  Hopefully, a new townhome that doesn’t require lawncare.  But, the memories of M and his lawn and his two orange cones will always remain.  Like the words of the song “Tattoo” that played on my radio today blared out:

You’re still a part of everything I do
You’re on my heart just like a tattoo
Just like a tattoo

You’re still a part of everything I do
You’re on my heart just like a tattoo
Just like a tattoo

Judi

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