10 Jun

Moves can be cathartic. This move I didn’t leap. I had my list. And I stuck to it. Doggedly determined, everything checked off.

The thing about moving is that sometimes there is time to sort through everything. A move with all one’s baggage is just like standing on the OTHER foot, nothing much has changed. Leaving things behind, throwing things out and rehoming treasures are the weights and balances we go through. Some of my weights sit within me. Some I can do something about. Where four years went, I cant. And my brother. Whooosh. Never leaves my eyes as I look out into the world.


I had a wreath that decorated my flat. Pretty. Yellow. VERY yellow and decorated with dragonflies and lady bugs. Everyone knows lady bugs are lucky. Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home. Your house is on fire and your kids are all gone. To be honest, I don’t know if that is how the ditty goes, or don’t. I do know that it was time for the wreath I made by home to be passed forward, in the least to bring a smile for someone needing a smile.


I had made the decision to take the wreath to Arlington about two days ago. Or was it one. I told my friend I was going to take my wreath to Arlington, Section 60, and find it a new home with someone needing a smile for Eternal Life. I figured I would know which headstone needed a heart beat albeit from a stranger. I had a glass rectangle filled with clear stones. It once held my bamboo plant I experimented splicing in to  MORE than one bamboo plant. Miracle of miracles it lives still but not in the glass rectangle- in an old green glass fluet I treasured. It fit.


Memorial Day I had gone to Arlington. I decided there were living who needed to know someone cared enough to learn about their loved one. I know firsthand the desire to know our lost ones aren’t forgot that their death reflected the difference they made in life.


I pulled up to Section 60. It is the Living Part of Arlington. Tourists for the most part don’t come here. Media shows up when sound bytes or burials take place. I went to listen. In the distance, as I was nearing the plots, I saw a young man kneeling his dog beside him. I walked over. I said hi. I refixed my very yellow daffodils on to the wreath, explaining I came to listen. I ended up talking, too. We are family who never met bonded by a grief others don’t get- merciless murder of loved ones from hate we don’t understand. His shades masked his tears. In time his heart opened up and I learned about David. This sister learned about a brother. This brother learned about a sister. We learned a bit about each other’s pasts. Opening up is hard because usually people are just being polite to listen. We live our grief every day. We will, for the rest of our lives.


I met his friend who traveled with him from out of state, his girl friend and pup. Dogs will be dogs even in Arlington. Got to love them, will pups never learn that grass is only greener in the ‘other fellows yard.’ In pups tummys, well. We all know how that one ends up, grin and smile.


I know his mom. She is mine. Women, strong, not showing their emotions. Their grief is tied up in being stoic. No parent wishes to lose a child. And when a parent does? Their blessing is shorter lives than siblings must endure, let alone siblings sharing birthdates, hobbies, fancies and love. We are changed forever.


I drove off then returned. Gave him my card. Said, I heard you. Sometimes it is important to know that people that listen really do and don’t just disappear. Please take the crystal pebbles, I told him. I know now why I was meant to come, bringing them along. Somewhere on your journey, I said, you will find people, in David’s path, who will need a crystal to hold on to, something to finger rub, something that lets them know too, life isnt a cakewalk, nor is it joke. It is as serious as a heartattack or in our cases- our brothers- a mad bomber on a bus or a suicide bomber with a vest- who decided there was virtue in senseless murder- of two men who made a difference- even if the difference was in our lives, and hearts, and families, alone…..


2 Responses to “ARLINGTON SECTION 60, a BROTHER’s LOVE:”

  1. Rick June 10, 2013 at 9:38 am #

    There are precious few words that come close to bearing any comfort for your loss, but there is love. Love from one soul to another, Love that transcends all space and time. And although you may not reason it’s existence you are sure to feel it nonetheless. May the good Lord Bless and keep you always.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: