Prelude
I started the recent long holiday weekend with some serious thought to how I’d spend my time. Jim had homework and mulch planned for much of it, so I needed something to do. A couple of my friends were going to have their grand opening of a winery in West Virginia and while I’d like to support them I don’t drink and that’s a long drive.
It also occurred to me that it has been a while since I’d been back to visit the cemetery where Jeff’s ashes were scattered – also in West Virginia.
By themselves, neither is perhaps really a good use of time, but together it seemed like a good day trip.
On Friday, I checked in with Jeff’s sister to see if she would be around for a visit. She wasn’t going to be – instead she was at a party for her nephew (just graduating high school) and niece (graduating college early). She sent me photos and I was gobsmacked. It had been 6 years since I’d seen them and the passage of time had turned them both into adults.
So, I did a little checking on my own and found the address for the cemetery – and the winery – and planned to head out Saturday morning.
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Part 1 – The grave
I started my trip with a stop at the ATM – just in case – and on my way to the gas station my tire pressure warning light came on. I got that resolved, but it wasn’t an auspicious way to start the trip. I was soon on the road and headed to Wheeling, WV.
The trip took a couple hours and traffic wasn’t bad. I found the cemetery without trouble and parked my car near where I thought the grave was located.
And that was the problem. I’d been there once with Jeff to visit his mom’s grave and again when his dad passed. And once with Jeff’s sister three years ago – but at no point did I really know where the graves were located.
And it’s a big cemetery. I wandered around for a bit, but started to overheat. So, I headed up to the office to see if they had a map. But when I got there, the door was locked.
I stood there for a minute, trying to figure out what to do next. I had gone all that way and…
I decided that I would just find a shady spot, sit, and think for a bit. And that would have to be enough – though it was disappointing.
As I was heading back to my car, a guy in a golf cart pulled up to the office and said he was opened up. We went into the cool air and he asked for the name. I gave them Jeff’s parents’ names since he had a headstone there, but his ashes had been scattered. I didn’t know how that worked, but the guy found them in the computer and asked me if Jeff was there too. I said he was and he remarked that he used to know Jeff. Jeff had been a funeral director in Wheeling for a time so it wasn’t that odd, but… still…
With an “address” of sorts and a map, I was on my way. It turned out that my instincts had been correct and I’d been close, but any navigational triumph was short lived.
I found his grave. And I broke down.
I tend to compartmentalize things and figured this part of the trip would consist of carefully opening the mental box and gently sorting through the memories – then closing it back up and putting it neatly away.
Instead, it was as though someone pulled a pin on a mental grenade and tossed it into my head. Cardboard, tape, and carefully lettered labels went flying in my head.
Everything washed over me as though no time had passed at all and I just stood there and sobbed uncontrollably.
I just let it happen and eventually I settled myself down. I knelt in the grass by the grave and apologized. Again. I couldn’t have saved him, but perhaps I could have made his last days less terrible – at the cost of my own happiness. Seems a small price to pay, in hindsight.
I took a few deep breaths and then pulled a few weeds. Seemed the thing to do. Then I stood, said goodbye, and headed back to my car.
I know, right down to the absolute core of my being, that he wasn’t there. That it was just a place and just a stone and literally anywhere else would have rationally been just the same.
But, you know… It did matter.
So, I occupied myself with finding a place to eat lunch and then eating before I got on the road again.
And on the long road, I thought about the mess in my head and started to put things back into their boxes.
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Part 2 – The winery
It was two and a half hours to Point Pleasant – the site of my friends’ new winery. At one point I debated on skipping that part of the trip and just heading home – too much Aimee Mann, I suspect – but I do like surprising people and it would be a good thing to do.
The GPS guided me unerringly and I arrived safe, though tired. As I pulled into the parking lot, I saw my friend wrangling a barrel outside to clean it. I got out and walked over to him and it took him a minute to recognize me – I think I was just so far out of context it threw him – then he grinned and gave me a big hug. I told him I was “sort of” in the neighborhood – Wheeling – and decided to check out the operation. He laughed and his partner met us at the door – and his partner was just as surprised to see me.
I got the tour of the wine making area, met the rest of the crew, and bought a bottle of wine for Jim. We talked for a bit and I decided to head out when they got busy again.
I think they were both glad to see me and I was happy I could help support their new adventure in a small way.
Back in the car and three hours home. I listened to some more upbeat music and got home safe and sound.
It was an odd way to spend a Saturday, but mostly a good one. I think I needed that trip and it was the right thing to do.
I sit here tonight with a now cold cup of tea and a head that’s still not sorted out.
But that’s okay.
And I’m okay.