That was it. We talked. He was there. Then he wasn't. No warning, no indication (at least no obvious one). Life was normal and then in moments, completely altered. I never said goodbye....I never said anything with meaning, it was just a normal every day conversation....the end.
That was 5 1/2 years ago. His dog is my dog now (all of friends/family/readers know this). She is my world, and she is getting up there in age...almost 15! This weekend was Memorial Weekend and as I've done for several years, I took Budha camping with some friends in Hayward, WI. Yesterday I called Jon's brother (who lives nearby where we camp). I was hoping to stop in and see him on our way back today, but the timing didn't line up.
I didn't know until about a year ago...where Jon's family plot was. He was cremated so there was no burial after his service. Today was the first time I've ever visited the cemetery.
Let me start by saying, I've moved on. I loved Jon, and he will always be a part of who I am. I don't wake up with that heavy feeling in my chest anymore and haven't for some time. I think about him daily...but I don't dwell, or get sad, or wonder. Sometimes a memory will sneak up on me that will make me tear up...but it's upon surprise. Sometimes I'm a little upset when I can't remember a detail of his life, or of an event...but that's why I wrote 76 pages in the 3 months after his death. I wanted every detail documented so if I ever did forget these things, I could look back and remember his story. When a major life event happens I no longer think "I can't tell Jon about this, he's not here" - life has returned to normalcy ( a different normalcy, but still good). But still...the one thing that really tugs at my heartstrings more than anything else...is Budha. She was his life. She is mine. He knew that if anyone could love her as much as he did...it would be me. I didn't expect her to last until 12....and now here she is - in almost perfect health - and almost 15 years old. I've done a great job with her. But still....she's aging, her muscles are starting to go, she tires much faster than she used to. She is not only the best part of my day, but she's a big part of what got me through losing him. And I am who got her through it. She's my link. When I lose her, it will be painful, and they will both be gone. While I still have a little time, and I'm doing my best to prepare for that...it's tough.
Today made things a little easier. I found the cemetery. The rain let up and skies opened to a beautiful blue as soon as I got there. Jon's brother gave me perfect directions. I had to look through all the stones to find his, which was agonizing. But once I found it, it seemed obvious that I should have went to that one first. A huge beautiful granite headstone with an archway of ivy and berries surrounding it. Of course, his family would not have settled for less. I touched the archway and smiled recognizing the decorative details that could only have come from his beautiful mother. I'd recognize her style anywhere.
Once I stood in front of his stone, I found myself unaware of what to do. I felt out of place, as I know my beliefs differ from many others, and I wasn't even sure...I just didn't know what to do. I've lost a lot of people in my life, but have never gone to visit a cemetery for closure. I looked around a few times, feeling awkward, not knowing if I should talk out loud....I stood there awkwardly for a while, and cried more than I expected. The stone listed the birthdates of his father, his mother, his brother, and himself. The only death date (which is good) was Jon's. The baby of the family. To see that "etched in stone" did bring a sense of finality. I did finally get comfortable talking to him a little. There wasn't much to be said...but I wanted him to know all about Budha and how great she has been doing (meanwhile Budha was dancing around happily by me as if she knew she was in a "fun" place). For a long time I felt guilt about not knowing something was wrong, and not encouraging him to go to the hospital to get checked out. I have turned that guilt into something useful now, by telling the story, and helping others to understand not to take these warning signs for granted. So while I stood there today, I no longer felt responsible for that...but as minor as it may seem, I apologized for a fight we had back in 2005. We got through it back then, but I didn't realize until I grew up a little more (probably 2-3 years ago) that I was wrong. Details aren't important but it lasted for several days, and he apologized....but today...I apologized. A weight was lifted immediately. I got to call him "Poopy" again. It brought me a lot of joy to call him that stupid nickname (which is derived from nothing gross...I just said it to him once and it stuck). And it was light. Aside from the apology, it was emotional, but not necessarily in a bad way. Budha sat pretty, and we left one of her treats there. Before I walked away, I whispered to him a secret and while I couldn't literally hear him, in my mind I could hear his laugh and I know exactly how he'd respond if he could hear it. And that's how I left. That's how I always left Jon. Whether we were in good moods, bad moods or otherwise, there was always an entertaining exit when one of us left a room, or hung up the phone. It was like old times. While I've felt good, it was still...an overdue closure.
