We buried my father ten years ago today. We buried him at the Kingman Fraternal Cemetery. I’ve written about this before. For all the years since we have been taking flowers down on the Thursday before Memorial Day – Mother driving down and me making the return trip. I’ve written about that before also – especially how she would sit like a test dummy waiting for me to crash all the way home.

Nine years last year and it started to seem real.  He was gone; tears could fill my eyes just out of the blue. I talked to my mother about the coming February being a decade and how it was getting harder. She said she felt too nervous to go last year and sent me alone; I think the truth of the matter was that she was feeling too ill, but didn’t want to say anything. Because, as you know, she died in October.

I didn’t expect to be marking this tenth anniversary by myself. I didn’t expect to be selecting her monument. I didn’t expect being nudged to list my expenses so the lawyer can finish up  and close the estate.

But here I am.