Rainy Memorial Day
“The king is gone but he is not forgotten, this is the story of Johnny Rotten, it’s better to burn out, than it is to rust.”
God, I hate this weekend. It was on Sunday night of Memorial Day Weekend; seems like a long time ago that Elaine and I lost our son, Alex. The coroner said it was hypothermia. I know it wasn’t hypothermia. Alex’s angel brought him home. His wick was gone.
From the time he was a child, Alex burned his wick as if it was in a stick of dynamite. The wick was never in a candle.
That Sunday night changed our family’s Memorial Day forever. The celebrations are gone. The rain is always there. It might work for Elaine and I to ignore the day, if not for the twins. We see so much of Alex, in both of them.
Elaine and I planned on working around the house this weekend. Elaine has plenty of heavy stuff I need to lift. Elaine has some new flowers that need planted. I have holes that needs dug.
We have a gas fire pit won’t stay lit. I started taking it apart yesterday morning, with the intent of taking the broken parts to town for replacement. After an hour of being bent over and my back getting stiff, I said to Elaine, “I noticed Royal Soopers has fire pits on summer clearance.” She said, “I’ll take a shower!”
Today, its raining, just like it was that day. I’ve come to terms with that. It keeps the twin’s wicks damp. It is the rest of the days, I should worry about. Alex, we think of you every day. I miss you. The twins are great. Thank you for them. Listen to your Grandma. Take Kaley fishing. We’ll talk someday.
I hope the rest of your take the time to honor the men and women that served and gave to the country, so that we can enjoy hotdogs and potato salad this weekend. (This blog does not support alcoholic beverages.)
My father and Elaine’s father, both served in WWII. (Incidentally, both named Dave.) I thank them for their service.
Capt. Dave, I thank you for taking me from a long-haired teenager to a long haired old guy with a view of America worth fighting for. God Bless you.
A quick story. While dating Elaine, I was hidden from Capt. Dave due to the length of my hair. Supposedly Capt. Dave said, “If you bring home a boy with long hair, I will physically kick him out, and then I’m kicking you out.” There is some question if he meant it, but there is no question that he could have done it. The guy could be terrifying. Until you actually talked to him. I mean actually talked to him.
One day I was taking a load of trash to the local landfill. At the landfill, the attendant coincidentally, had me back in to unload my trash next to an old green pickup. I immediately recognized the pickup and said to my equally as long- haired buddy, “Oh (construction language), that’s Elaine’s dad!” My friend and I worked in silence getting the trash out of my truck. And then Capt. Dave says,
Capt. Dave: Do you boys want to borrow my broom?
Me: I’m Sorry?
Capt. Dave: The dust, get the dust out of your truck. It will cause rust.
He didn’t want to cut our hair, well, maybe he did. But he didn’t say it. Turns out he was a great guy. I miss him.
OK, now for a beervirus Your Daily Fiber update. During the four weeks of forced closure, Ivy had plenty of time to think. Man, does she have ideas. She is buying this and that, moving this to over to there. My head is spinning.The store is sanitized to a point where my hands bleed. Ivy was a germophobe before beervirus, and she will be a germophobe, after beervirus.
Come see us. We appreciate your support. Incidentally, you cannot get nice yarn at Wally World. (I wonder if I could be sued for that?)
Another Memorial Day will be over. The rain is making it easier to dig holes. God Bless you guys. Buy yarn.
Our crazy lives!