May Day
May Day can mean different things, depending on who you are. For some it’s a time to dance around a pole with ribbons (I never understood why). For some it’s a cry of distress. In old Russia, it was a time to celebrate. It still is for the Klan.
I called the Attorney on the way down to Knoxville.
“I’m coming to town.”
He wasn’t expecting it. So. he asked if everything is okay.
“Fine. I’m going to see my mama.”
May Day is the anniversary of my mother’s death. Eighteen years ago, today. I have not had a mother four years more than I had one.
“Do you need some company or is it something private,” he asked me.
“I always go by myself.”
“Oh.” I sensed a little bit of disappointment in his response.
“But, if you want to…” I offered.
He got there much later than I did. I figured it was because he was coming from work. But he said he just wanted to give me some alone time. Plus, it turns out, he stopped on the way to get a little potted plant to leave for mama.
He handed me his jacket and squatted on the balls of his feet, careful to not let the knees of his suit pants hit the grass. He clawed at the ground with his bare hands and used his long fingers to dig out a 2-inch square spot. He plugged the flower into the little hole and mashed the earth around it with the flat of his big hands.
I questioned whether it was allowed that we plant our own things.
His knees popped as he stood up and brushed off his fingertips. “I don’t know. But the plot is paid for, right? Seems to me you can do what you want.”
He made a good point. Plus, it made my mother’s simple little grave seem a little less lonely.
She’s there all by herself. My father was buried someplace else. (Not sure why.) But my granddaddy is someplace else, too. And Granny will joining him when the time comes. There’s room for me. But, I want to be set on fire instead of decaying in the ground.
It makes me worry that I don’t visit more than once a year.
The Attorney says that once a year is acceptable. I don’t know. Acceptable doesn’t mean right.
It was awfully quiet out there on a Thursday evening. About the only sound was the breeze that was bringing the clouds threatening rain.
So we stood there in silence.
I never talk out loud to mama. I always feel a little silly when I do. Because she doesn’t answer back out loud.
Eventually the Attorney came up and bumped his shoulder against mine. It’s his version of PDA. I slipped my arm around his lower back and pulled him a little closer.
“This is him,” I said out loud.
And it didn’t feel silly.
May Day is the day that I introduced the Attorney to my mother.
May 1st, 2008 at 10:48 pm
awww, sad on one hand, but super sweet on the other…
May 2nd, 2008 at 12:27 am
I have a lot of different things I want to say. 1. Though I had a story for you, I think it’s enough to say that many people go “only” once a year. But taht it’s such a special day, the thoughts and feelings involved are infinite. 2. You are so sensitive to the Attorney’s feelings, and he’s so sensitive to yours. How sweet. 3. Your writing is really moving. Touching and real and filled with humanity.
May 2nd, 2008 at 3:13 am
Tony, my father passed away EXACTLY as many years ago today as I knew him, and I understand exactly why it was important to you to mention that part of it. I also understand why you don’t ‘talk out loud’ when you visit… I do the same thing.
And I haven’t cried about any of it in years. I just haven’t. I don’t know why.
This. THIS.
THIS POST.
Oh, my. All I can say is that your mama should be a very proud woman. And that the attorney should be a very proud man. And, well…
…well, you should be very proud of yourself. There are so many gifts in this post. To so many people. Thank you for sharing this bit with us… because I was raised in North Carolina, and one of the things that my mother taught me was “when you accept a gift, you honour the giver.”
I feel honoured today. Thank you.
May 2nd, 2008 at 4:39 am
Aww that is really sweet Tony…. I’m sure that mama has been keeping close watch over the both of you. I know that my family members keep a close eye on me.
I know how you feel though… I work just up the road from the family plot where all of my ancestors are buried, and in the 3 years that I’ve been at my current job, I don’t think I’ve stopped once to visit the grave site. I always drive by there and throw a kiss as I pass by the graveyard, but I’ve never taken the time to walk in and say hi. I really should someday…
May 2nd, 2008 at 7:25 am
Oh Wow… Great post, LT… Thank You… I am one that actually sits and talks with the old man, as if he were still here… I go every year on his birthday… I think it’s just a way for me to work things out, and stay connected to him… It’s early and I’m rambling… Thanks
Love from Atlanta
May 2nd, 2008 at 9:00 am
Wow. I know some of the reasons the attorney loves you. I also know some of the reasons you love him. Wow,
May 2nd, 2008 at 9:02 am
Aww. That is so sweet. That you go there, that he went with you, and brought a plant, that you introduced him. It is all so sweet. And more so because you shared it with us.
My dad is down in Arlington and I never have gotten down there to visit him. But I think about him almost every day. I’m with you, I want to be burned and cast into a river or ocean. Cemeteries are such a waste of space. Our planet is just too small.
May 2nd, 2008 at 10:08 am
you made me cry big guy. i love you.
May 2nd, 2008 at 10:16 am
I got tears in my eyes as I read those last three paragraphs.
May 2nd, 2008 at 10:57 am
beautiful. made me cry too.
May 2nd, 2008 at 11:01 am
Thanks. I needed this post. you are a good man and I hope someday to meet you and the attorney.
I just put four DVDs in the mail on May Day for each of my siblings. They are copies of the little movie I put together of shots of our Mom. We weren’t allowed to show it at her funeral, but we did show it at the viewing(without music).
I was Ok until I previewed the first one and then I realized she is never coming to visit anymore..there won’t be any more phone calls, no cards. It is hard, but then I previewed the rest and it got better, because I realized she lived a good life.
Thanks Tony!
Jim
May 2nd, 2008 at 12:07 pm
Heart wrenching.
May 2nd, 2008 at 12:48 pm
This is beautiful for so many reasons.
May 2nd, 2008 at 1:54 pm
Thanks for this post. My annual visit to my father’s grave is Memorial Day and it’s fast approaching. Perhaps someday I too will be able to make an introduction.
Now what’s this about the Klan?
May 2nd, 2008 at 2:08 pm
Not “silly” at all. Thanks.
May 2nd, 2008 at 7:12 pm
I don’t shave very much. Usually a wave of the clippers is enough to keep the whiskers under control.
Tonight, a group of friends that I have fallen out of touch with is meeting in a bar, and I am going to go. I went in the bathroom, put the shaving cream on, and came back to the computer to let it soak in.
I clicked onto your site, hoping to see a yummy hnt picture. Instead I read this story. When I got to the end I started to cry. Shaving while you are crying is not a good thing to do.
May 2nd, 2008 at 7:31 pm
My old man died 1980 and my mom died in ‘02. They are both buried back in Dayton Ohio. Your post was quite beautiful and made me cry - but in a good way.
I think you have a good man there.
May 2nd, 2008 at 7:46 pm
that made me smile and tear-up at the same time bud.
May 2nd, 2008 at 8:06 pm
I’m trying to find the right words, as I brush away my tears. The previous commenters beautifully expressed most of my thoughts and feelings.
You and the Attorney have something very special, and my heart smiles whenever you share another facet of your love story. Thank you!
This post was tough for me to read, but yet inspiring. My mom has been gone 10 years and almost 4 months now, and I grieve for her every day. She chose not to be buried, because she didn’t want a fixed place where I would go, probably too often, and feel sad. She also hoped that her spirit, and memory, would be felt in many beautiful places, and not just symbolized by a cold headstone.
And she got her wish–I feel her most strongly when I’m around her favorite trees or flowers, or am watching a gorgeous sunset, or smiling at the first baby bunnies and ducklings in the neighborhood every spring.
I talk to mom all the time–privately, and I don’t feel silly, and I am not crazy (well, at least not based on that!). It’s just part of my way of staying connected to her, and it usually leaves me feeling joyous, rather than sad.
Ok, I’m crying again! But also smiling—
Oh, I am going to miss you so much when you sign off in September!
May 2nd, 2008 at 8:23 pm
Very moving.
May 2nd, 2008 at 9:36 pm
Every 4 or 5 weeks I go down to the coast of NC to see either my mother or my father, they are alive but have been divorced for 30 or so years.
And so your post reminds me of how glad I am that they are still around and of how fortunate I am that they are.
And it seems to me that you are very lucky also.
Very nice post on a number of levels.
May 3rd, 2008 at 1:23 am
Brought a tear to my eye.
May 3rd, 2008 at 7:27 am
7:30 on a Saturday morning and you have me crying…
May 3rd, 2008 at 9:09 am
Tony, I doubt you remember me from a few years back when I had a blog, but I have been reading your site almost every day since then. I am usually very shy about commenting and really haven’t. Until today. I totally lost it on this blog, and that simple line of “This is him” out loud was a beautiful thing.
I lost my best friend a few years ago and I still visit her grave, similar to you, once a year although I try to go more if possible. I also don’t speak out loud because I believe she can understand/hear what I am saying quietly inside. I have been single for 6 years, and always visit alone, but someday I hope I can go there and have the opportunity to say “This is him” out loud.
I love your blog, and your writing, and even when you don’t think you have anything to say, you say it well. Thank you for sharing this, and all of your other stories.
May 3rd, 2008 at 9:59 am
When I read, “This is him,” I stood up and walked away from the computer. Holy shit. Now I’m crying. What a journey it has been for you, Tony. Wow.
May 3rd, 2008 at 2:49 pm
Simply beautiful again. I’m sorry about your mother, but I am glad you introduced the Attorney to her. Tony, I am so happy you have the Attorney in your life. The strong mixed emotions you evoked brought tears to my eyes as to many of your other readers. I too feel the loss of my mother at this time of year, and unexpectedly have found someone to love and love me. I feel very lucky. In spite of, and because of, everything I hope you do too.
May 3rd, 2008 at 4:37 pm
I’ve nothng to say other than I know where you’re comng from and in the end your post made me smile.
May 3rd, 2008 at 5:30 pm
I am a little sad, but a lot happy after reading your story. You made me think of when my husband finally “met” my mama. I have only been to visit her two times in the 14 years she has been gone, but only because she is buried in Memphis and I live in Texas. Thank you for writing this and making me remember this special time.
May 4th, 2008 at 1:04 am
You write so beautifully and express yourself so well. Even “This is him” would have said a million times more to the attorney than those three words could say literally.
I’m lucky enough to still have my mother but never had the opportunity to introduce anyone special to her, yet.
You have an amazing and beautiful soul Mr L Tony.
B x
May 4th, 2008 at 1:14 am
My mom is buried in a neighboring state, and it’s been a few years since I’ve been to her grave. I wish I could go more often, but it doesn’t happen.
I have often wanted to talk to my mom, but I always feel silly doing so. I don’t have to be at her grave, just living my life wondering how things would be different if she were alive. She died when I was in high school, and I ended up taking over the role of mother. Sometimes I have a hard time relinquishing my duties.
Thanks for sharing such a personal moment. I truly appreciate it.
May 4th, 2008 at 8:14 am
I’ve never visited your blog before. But this post moved me to tears. I also look at my Mother in terms of how long she’s been gone. And several years ago marked the point where she’s been deceased longer than I knew her. I understand those thoughts. Thanks for sharing this story.
May 4th, 2008 at 1:04 pm
Tony - I’m so glad you decided to “share” your annual visit with your Mama, with the man in your life. I’m sure you’ll never know how much it meant to the Attorney for you to do so. And how proud and touched he must have been as you introduced him to your Mama there. My tears in reading your post will serve as a reminder to cherish the time I have taking care of my own Mother for as long as I have left with her. Happy early Mother’s day to Tony’s Mom and everyone else’s out there too! - Michael
May 4th, 2008 at 6:09 pm
The Maypole? C’mon! It’s a phallus set up on the Green as prelude to the deflowering that goes on in the fields later that evening (preChristian fertility stuff). The ribbons, hanging loosely around the phallus: you guess!
May 11th, 2008 at 5:10 pm
*sniff* Beautiful post, Tony.