Wednesday, April 21, 2010


On my way back from visiting my Mom I detoured for a little while to pay my respects at Dad's grave. I gave Moiya the choice to stay in the car or come with me and she chose to come. So hand in hand we trudged up the ramp-like walkway that leads to Dad's plot.

This was Moiya’s second visit since infancy and she's lost some of her overt fascination with death. (She no longer argues to dig Dad up and have a look at him anyway). But as with all of us, there's a mystique about death. After I paid my respects Moiya wanted to explore so we walked the rest of the way up the hill to the old section. Compared to the little plaques Moiya was used to, the big Victorian monuments were pretty exotic and we ambled happily for a while with her admiring the statuary and Daddy interested in the dates.

Eventually even statuary lost its fascination and Moiya wandered off to pick dandelions. We pick lots of dandelions at home. We picked dandelions at every single rest stop on the way to St. Louis so we could give Nonny something pretty for her apartment. Back at our place, the kitchen windowsill is covered with small containers of water in which dandelions are undergoing the mysterious transformation into puffballs, which we then disperse on the winds across the complex. The groundskeepers hate us.

And so we passed the time quietly with Daddy pondering stones and Moiya picking flowers. It was pleasant -especially as it's a rare thing for Moiya to be quiet for an extended period. Moiya gets better marks in school now that the Evil Kindergarten Teacher has gone on leave. But she still does poorly in deportment because she can't keep her mouth shut. I asked one day in exasperation if everybody else got in trouble for talking. Moiya admitted that they did not. I asked if that meant that everyone else was able to keep quiet and Moiya admitted that it did. “And why” I said “can everybody manage to stop talking except you?”

Moiya pondered for a moment and then offered “Because I have more thoughts than anybody else.”

Well alrighty then. I couldn't really argue with that, although I did manage not to laugh. Laughing tends to limit the efficacy of Daddy's Stern Warnings ™

Eventually we went back down the hill to begin the long drive home. And I noticed that while my attention had been elsewhere, somebody had placed a handful of freshly-picked bright yellow flowers atop dad's grave.

More thoughts indeed.