Alex Carrick’s Blog

Paul didn’t care that some people might find it maudlin. Perhaps even in questionable taste. It had long given him comfort. And now he was sharing it with his children.

It was their annual day to visit the cemeteries – two in fact. One on the outer fringe of the mega city, that Paul liked to think of as the suburban holding tank, and one in the downtown core, the treasure chest.

It wasn’t easy getting between the sites. They were separated by a busy distance. Starting out early in the morning, it was easy to reach the cemetery in the suburbs, but by mid-day the traffic into the city was brutal.

The strain was relieved by a lunch break during which Paul and the children would always go to the same fast food restaurant, choose window seats and watch people strolling by for an hour.

Paul knew this day was essentially a “cheap date.” It was a way to spend quality time with his three kids without draining his wallet. But calling him a miser trivialized the occasion.

There was a great deal of serious intent in what he was doing.

Paul didn’t believe in spirits or ghosts. He harbored some religious leanings, but he wasn’t convinced there is an afterlife.

He didn’t think he was going to family gravesites to communicate with the departed. It was just that on some level there was no denying it felt right.

It was a mark of respect. It was an acknowledgement that for each individual, time has an introduction and a termination.

The four person odyssey provided a measure of quiet, peace and grace that was nigh on impossible to find anywhere else in the big city.

There were touching moments brought on by an occasional whisper of awe.

Paul was initiated in this unusual ritual when his own mother died at a relatively young age. Paul had been 19 at the time.

From that moment forward, Paul and his father would always visit her gravesite on Christmas Day. This was a routine maintained even after his father remarried several years later.

Visiting the mother’s gravesite provided a respite from the chaos of Christmas Day and provided a tonic from the gorge of gift giving that was evident everywhere else.

When Paul’s father eventually passed away, Paul picked up the mantle and made it a rule that his own children were to accompany him on his journey.

Surprisingly to Paul, his children were quite taken with the idea. Every year, as Christmas approached, they would ask him when they were going to the cemeteries.

Given the hustle and bustle of the time of year, it could no longer be on the 25^th. There was always simply too much to do.

Paul’s better half was swamped with preparations for company and he and the children were expected to help out.

As a result, the visit was usually scheduled during the workweek as near before or after Christmas Day as practically possible.

Paul’s wife came along when possible, but her job in accounting usually meant a year-end closing that required her at the office.

Paul dug deeper into his memory and recollected ancestors and great ancestors who were buried in a second cemetery in a beautiful location near the heart of the city.

Tree-lined lanes made this a favorite of joggers and hand-holding romantics in the summer. In winter, there were sometimes giant snowflakes falling so puffy and thickly spaced, to stand was to be wrapped in frigid gauze.

Anyone could have an elaborate headstone with the right amount of money. But the greco-temple-style mausoleums in cemetery number two were still the preserve of the truly rich.

They were a monumental sight and would always elicit several oohs and ahs as Paul and the children drove by on their way to more modest familial “lodgings.”

The fact is Paul and his children always had a good time on this day. Fun was a term that wasn’t out of place.

There was often pleasant laughter. The youngest child, in all innocence, was particularly likely to say something inappropriate that would get the other three going.

They’d bring wreaths and place them on the gravestones. The accumulation of time meant an impressive collection from the family album was buried along the route.

Paul was able to use this as an object lesson.

“You’ve heard the term dysfunctional family,” he would tell the young ones. “Almost all families have at least some shortcomings.

“But look what eventually happens. You choose to be buried with your nearest and dearest, whatever your differences in life may have been.

“Eternity stretches out a long way and you want to be with the ones you loved.

“You children, naturally enough, believe the world begins with you.

“Your parents had no existence until you came along. I remember feeling the same way as a child myself.

“I know it seems inconceivable to you that your parents had youthful adventures every bit as meaningful to them as yours are to you.

“No wonder it’s such a shock when mommy and daddy become separated or seek a divorce.

“A major step to becoming an adult is to recognize the individuality in other people. That the world does not revolve around any one person. Never has and never will.”

Paul knew these were fancy and perhaps disturbing words that were probably passing over his children’s’ heads.

Still, as he thought about it over the years, he came to one deeper conclusion about the point of his cemetery jaunts. It was all about the continuum.

The names Garrett, Macdonald, Polyanski, Chen and a million others on myriad headstones bore testament to one fact only.

The essence of human life, stretching and bending, breathing and often wheezing through the ages, is a story without a beginning, middle or end. 

****

Family ties are further explored in the sweet tale, Ornament.

But if you’d prefer a story with an amusing bounce, there’s cracker-jack dialogue in Dancing the Family Man Shuffle. 

**

For my first book, “Two Scoops” Is Just Right, please click here for the paperback version and here for the Kindle e-book version.

For the sequel, “Three Scoops” Is A Blast! (with the award-winning “Size of the Skip”) click here for paperback and here for Kindle.

For “Four Scoops” Is Over The Top (containing Hemingway short-listed “Caboose Follies”) click here for paperback and here for Kindle.

And finally, for my latest book, “Five Scoops” Is An Addiction!, please click here for the paperback and here for the Kindle digital version.

Also, I would love it if you joined me on Twitter (Alex_Carrick), Facebook and/or LinkedIn.