This last summer was very special. While I’ve been here, in Arizona taking care of Mom, I’ve missed Joe and Joci terribly. I got really lucky this summer in that they were able to come and visit me. Joci was here a month and a half, and Joe was here for about a month due to sports commitments. I absolutely loved having them here.
While they were here, I wanted us all to go up and visit Dad. He’s not buried anywhere, he didn’t want to be buried, but some of him is at his favorite area near Strawberry Arizona. He would go there often to pick wild black raspberries. We would go with him sometimes, and he even took Joseph there a couple of times to pick berries and make loads of jam. Which, when it was good, was the best jam ever! It was his special place, I think, and that is why Mom wanted him to ‘be’ there. She even had a little plaque made to signify his passing, and stuck it far into the ground next to a stump and camouflaged a bit with brush and rocks, so that it wouldn’t be disturbed for awhile.
Matt drove us up from Payson and it was just as I remembered. So quiet. There is a big ravine at the bottom of the hill, which when you look out over it, you can see the wind rushing towards you as you anticipate that sound of it rustling the leaves as it combs through the branches. We all took turns standing by his plaque, talking to him in our own ways. Most of us were quiet, full of the heaviness of loss. Dad was such a big personality, even six years on, his presence is missed.
I’m so grateful to have spent the time there with my children, who miss their Grandpa so dearly. With Mom, who misses her spouse, relying on support other than her spouse. And, with my brother, he’s the only other person that knows what it was to have our Dad be our Dad. It was a beautiful day, so we collected a couple of rocks to keep with us, and said goodbye again. Who knows when, or even if, we’ll be back to visit him.
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