Missing You

Missing you just now. No particular reason, except maybe because I'm watching an episode of Penn & Teller's Bullshit about the death industry. I've only dealt with them once, and that was when my grandmother died. I was lucky I didn't have to do anything for you--the hostpital took care of all the "arrangements."

I have your ashes still. Your daddy and I have finally decided what we're going to do, if not where or when. Daddy wants to built you a rocket. A pretty big one, given the stuff he's shown me online. He wants to put your ashes in as the payload, and shoot the rocket up into the sky out somewhere beautiful. He wants the mountains, and I guess that's fair. You were made by the ocean, where I grew up. Where a place inside of me comes alive that doesn't anywhere else. The mountains are that for your daddy.

In fact, the first time I ever saw your daddy was a picture of him in all his mountain climbing gear, standing triumphantly in the Monkey's Mouth. It's a big rock shaped kind of like a monkey face. See?



I can't find the actual picture, but I'll probably put it here later. But what I'm saying is that the mountains are his spiritual place. And if he has feelings about anything having to do with you I almost always follow them. Don't think he doesn't love you just because he doesn't talk to you like I do. He does, just as much as I do.