A little over seven years ago, my dad died. He had Alzheimer’s Disease and was in a nursing home. He was just shy of 88 years old. Dad and I didn’t have a comfortable relationship. While I’ve been told by others how he bragged on me and professed his love for me, I saw very little evidence of those feelings my entire life. He was an active alcoholic when I was growing up and seemed to revert to his old behaviors whenever we were together.

I buried his ashes on that far river bank there. It was a hot September day…a Thursday, just two days after the memorial service. I’m not sure how or why I was put in the position of deciding his funeral arrangements since he had remarried many, many years ago and his wife was living. But, however it happened, I selected cremation. To my knowledge, Dad had never given any directives as to funeral arrangements. In my mind, cremation suited him. He was a fisherman and was much happier on a river bank than with his family. So, I selected this as his final resting place. As you can see, the river is up, so his ashes have long since met the Mississippi Delta.

I came here yesterday to see his wife. She is in the same nursing home Dad was in, right across the street from the funeral home she will pass through one day, same as Dad. She doesn’t know how old she is. She couldn’t remember the last time I saw her. She kept telling me how good it was of me to visit. I looked at her and prayed, “Dear God…please don’t do this to me. When it’s my time, just take me fast like You took my husband.” Oh, if it were just that easy.

When Mr. Virgo died, I was 59. I could not picture a future…any future…without him. I’m only now getting little flashes of where my life might go. I don’t think any of us can really conjure up a clear image of what our lives could actually look like 10, 20, possibly even 30 years down the road. Especially when our “mirror” is gone. Mr. Virgo served as my frame of reference. As he aged, I aged…though I had difficulty recognizing it. My only real clue now is the silver in my hair. It has grayed tremendously in the last three years. I like it. It gives me character. I know the stress of grief has contributed to the changes I see and that is beyond anyone’s control.

Anyway, back to Laura. She was lying in the same position she was in the last time I saw her. I don’t visit with her very often. We were never close. But I do pray for her. I pray for all the forgotten ones in the nursing homes. I pray I’m never one of them. But, mostly I pray that my Dad understands why I buried him on a muddy river bank. I hope he understands it was an angry little girl who did that. I hope I see him again so we can have that moment of reconciliation. In the meantime, I always come here and visit with him when I’m in town. It was where he was the happiest.

❤️

“By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.””

Genesis 3:19 NIV