What mood?

Oh, and by the way... I'm thinking this horrible empty "no 'good-bye' moment" thing is a large part that has made me such the anti-social creature that I've become over the past few years. Also, it might be part of the aging process.

But I do find it hard to get motivated to hang with folks. It seems sorta what's-the-point-y. Only the persistent ones seem to get me to hang with them. I need to work on this.

Scott's birthday was this past Tuesday. I meant to go visit him. This week was just too crazy. It took me 10 years to go the first time, so I'm sure he didn't expect me to show. Plus there's the whole "being dead" thing. Jhoneric said he go with me next time, though, so that's a bonus.

Anyway, this is mainly for those of you who think I've written you off or whatever. I'm just in a mood. It'll either go away or it won't. Nothing personal. If you keep contacting me, you'll have more success, though.

Again with the Happy Easter.

A Visit with Scooter

Andra and I drove up to Brookfield on Thursday, December 23rd, to finally visit Scott's grave. The fact it's been almost ten years since I heard about his death and still this is the first time I've gone is still sorta weighing heavily on my conscience.

It was a nice trip up. Andra and I talked about many varied topics: people from college, how life as someone who is almost 40 is, horrible/wonderful things that happened in college, horrible/wonderful things that happened after college, how we came to be the people we are, lots of conversation about Scott (a.k.a. Scooter).

Brookfield kinda took us by surprise, so we didn't even realize we'd passed TT (which is the road the graveyard is just past). We drove all the way through Brookfield on 36 highway looking for TT, and had to turn around. We went to one graveyard we'd spotted, but it was "the other" graveyard in Brookfied, not the one we wanted.

We stopped at a gas station to get directions, and still managed to drive by the graveyard "exit" (it's really just a right turn that sneaks up on you).

I am still trying to decide if it was appropriate that it was so cold that day. I mean, if the world felt to Scooter the way I felt that day... well, I'll just stop at "it was too cold" and leave it at that.

Except to add that the ground was actually warm, which makes where I was going with that last bit even ickier. But the ground was warm. We'd both gotten down to brush away dirt and dead grass that had gotten on his grave and I noticed the ground felt warm, so I stayed there while we had our visit.

As you may notice from the picture above, his birthdate was not on the stone. This bothered me for some reason, and Andra (who has a background in the whole "history and research" area), said it would be easy to get his Death Certificate from City Hall. We'd just need a couple of bucks. So after playing Scott some music and just generally chatting about things, we went to City Hall.

Easier said than done, however. They have a lovely City Square/Park in Brookfield, and City Hall isn't on it. The two people we stopped to ask weren't able to help us. Andra finally had to go into a business and ask them. We got to City Hall, but it closed at noon that day, and wouldn't be open again until after Christmas.

Andra had the idea of going to the funeral home that handled his funeral (she had done a sort of pre-visit research in order to learn where Scott was buried... see, she's the queen of research). She said they would have a record there. I hummed and hawed and she said, "Well, we're here now..." so I went. But I told her she'd have to do all the talking because I didn't know what to ask for.

And that's the story of how I learned Scott's birthday again. I say "again" because I'm sure I knew it at one point, even if it was just whenever his birthday came around while we were in college.

Anyway, back to the site: Andra had heard from the guy at the funeral home that Scott's mom had died recently. We thought he meant his birth mother, but it was actually the woman who raised him. That was another sad thing, as Dawn had said (again, almost 10 years ago) that when I visited Scott's grave, I should go see his Grandmother, because she would love to hear from friends of Scott. I guess I got there too late.

Bask in the guilt.

And there is this feeling of guilt that comes with it. We walked into the funeral home and Andra said we were friends of Scott's, and I had to wonder if the people were thinking, "Some friends... where were you during the dark night of his soul?"

Where was I? I know where I was in my life. I'd just left L.A., and was wishing I could get back there, but wanted to go back with money and not live as month-to-month as I had before. I wanted to know what I wanted to do with my life. I keep trying to remember what it was I did for Thanksgiving in 1994. I know I had been in Butler earlier in the month, helping Jason. I assume I was at home. Jordan would have been just a few weeks old. But as Thanksgivings go (granted, I've had a few "stand-out" Thanksgivings), it doesn't stand out at all. I didn't even know it should have stood out until the following summer.

So I don't know where I was. Lost in my life, I guess. I think I'm still there sometimes, and that's no good. But what to do, what do to?

If you're driving east on highway 36 and almost to Brookfield, and you happen to see this UMB sign:

Do me a favor and wave "hi" to Scooter for me. Tell him I miss him and I wish he could write me a letter.

Two Funerals an Open House... and Some Bowling... and Some Singing

This was a busy week. I'm sure that's why whatever this sinus/congestion crud is that won't leave my system felt welcome to stay.

I had my first chorus rehearsal this week. The word is "OVERWHELMED". Lots of music to memorize... but then again, memorizing music is easier than memorizing lines, so I guess I can take some of the "whelm" away. Met lots of nice people, and a couple of people I've... um... met before. Always fun.

After-school activities started this week, so Tuesday and Thursday I got to stay after school... and on Thursday I was there until 7:30-ish for Open House...

But wait, there's more!

Right after Open House the team from last year went to a funeral home for a visitation. One of last year's students had a mother who was fighting cancer. They thought things had turned around, I guess, but then they hadn't after all.

I would say that 13/14 is too young to lose your mother, but really, when is it a walk in the park to lose your mother?

Still I felt for the girl. She seemed to be holding up okay, but I think part of that is some strange cultural leftovers where we expect much wailing and gnashing of teeth or something. So when you see a total lack of wailing and very little teeth-gnashing, you think, "Wow, they're holding up great."

So that was my Thursday. Then on Friday and went to the visitation and part of the funeral for Alice's grandson, who was one week away from making it into this world when he passed on to the next. In retrospect, I wish I would have just taken the afternoon off. Somehow I got it in my head the funeral was at 11:00, and I figured I could make that on my planning time and be back to school in time for the first class after plan time. It started closer to 11:30, so I had to leave shortly after things started.

Luckily for me this sinus/congestion/sore throat thing was making my throat all "hey-you-need-to-cough-y", so it made for a sensible reason to get up and leave the room.

The parents seemed to be holding up okay... again with the whole, "What did you expect? Wailing and gnashing of teeth?"

And I'm sure there's been much wailing... much teeth-gnashing... much in the Deep Sense of Loss department.

And here's something about when something like this happens: It makes you appreciate life more, and that appreciation of life makes you sadder about what happened. Kind of a vicious circle, really.

Meaning, I had the thought "Well, this world is one crappy place most of the time, so maybe skipping is not the worst thing that could happen to a person." Then this thought was followed by my thinking of all the things he's going to miss out on, and thus the appreciation for the good things this place has to offer... which is immediately followed by a sense of sadness for all this person will be missing... which brings you back to "What a crappy place this is most of the time." And around and around we go.

Which is to say, what a week.

Luckily I had my first week of Friday Night League, and I bowled much and laughed almost as much. Back to the good things of this world.

And I bowled too well for my first week. I set my average much higher than it was before.

Oh well.

Everyone have a good life until (and even beyond) my next post... and see how many things you can think of that are "Okay, life is crappy except for THAT".