When I sat down to write today, I thought I was writing a eulogy for Sandy. No words came. I had said it all yesterday in a short paragraph. Sandy had been with us for fifteen years. We loved her and she loved us back. She became sick and died in my arms...right where she should have been. Her death broke my heart. Her burial broke my back.
Tommy and I have decided that we are going to be cremated when we die. Funerals cost too much. The survivor will need the insurance money to continue to live as we do now...without worries. It sounds good. Makes sense to most people and has even become popular in some circles. The only problem is I hate the idea of burning up anyone I love. It seems barbaric and I for one can not do it. Tommy has no problem with the idea. Yesterday he asked me if I wanted him to call the vet and make arrangements for Sandy's cremation or did I want to bury her in the garden. Of course I picked the garden. I would make the same decision again today. However, little did I know how hard physically digging a four foot grave for Sandy's remains would be.
The only thing about me that feels 67 years old is my knees and today my back and ribs. Usually I am fine. I don't feel or think any different than I did when I was 40. Tommy feels the same way. He has had a rough year and is finally healing. Much better than I hoped for. He still has pain in his left arm but it is down to a 2 or 3 level. He can function and live with that. We both think it will be gone by October.
However, if you put the two of us together you have one whole person with bad knees and an iffy lower back, a left arm that hurts so bad it has been known to make an ex Marine cry. And this person has to dig a four foot hole. It took a long time to get that hole dug. We started with shovels, then we turned to a pick ax. From the ax we drug in the tiller. That helped a lot. Until I looked up and saw how the tiller was jerking Tommy's arms. He refused to quit using it because at last we were making some progress.
The shady spot I picked out is nice. It is under a tall tree with roots that go all the way to China. We dug, scooped, pulled until the hole was deep enough. My knees had left the premises about two hours earlier. To get out of the hole, I had to grab the tree and pull.
Finally Sandy was laid to rest. She was covered in her favorite blanket. We thanked God for allowing us to raise Sandy. We thanked him for a lot of memories. Then we gathered up all the shovels, pick axes, and other tools that I don't even know what they were for. But I do know one thing, they were not for digging dirt.
We waddled to the house, took a shower and then a 3 hour nap. When we woke up Tommy asked me if I wanted to go to Portland to eat. I did. The fish and beer was delicious. We talked and talked then talked some more. Once again the subject matter was cremation. It is in our will that we will be cremated. I am sure if I go first, he will cremate me...probably have a wiener roast:) I will not bet on cremation for Tommy. I have loved that body 46 years. However I know one thing for sure, I am not digging the grave!! Men!!! Can't do anything with them and don't want to live without them. The way it stands we are being cremated...unless Tommy goes first...to be continued hopefully at much later date.
It is a well known fact, I enjoy meeting unusual people. Why?? Because they seldom let me down. If I wait long enough a story is just a smile away.
Airports, elevators, hospitals, parks, bars, restaurants,Walmart, church, airplanes, the library, Alaska, the beach, auctions and even the Army Surplus stores are a few places I have walked away with a stranger 's life story or some horrific event in their lives they can't forget. A few have even shared photos of their adventure. We seldom if ever exchange names. I think that is odd, however probably a good idea in the long run.
Tommy and I were out and about today. He needed to go to Harbor Freight and get a couple of tools that were on sale. I wanted to go to the Army Surplus store and check out mosquito netting and a few other items for camping or for when the SHTF..whichever comes first. It was there I met my 'character' for the day.
As I tried to open the boarded up door, a young man was walking out. He was short, wore grey baggy shorts and a t- shirt. He had both ears pierced with black circles that will leave his ears eventually with holes the size of nickles...I guess. We bumped into each other. He was looking over his shoulder talking to the man running the store and I was on a mission to get some camping supplies. After we said our 'excuse me's'; the cashier said, "l will have that door fixed tomorrow. We were robbed earlier this week." BINGO!! That was all I needed. I knew a story was brewing close to the surface in the room. I asked about the robbery. The young man came back in to talk and the cashier began to retell the story. It was a simple story. The robbers knocked out the glass in the door and walked in--took what they wanted and left. That was it. I was semi disappointed until the young man began talking. A couple of months ago he was shot in the knee, a few blocks from where the surplus store is located. Evidently, the street his girlfriend lives on is in a dangerous area of Columbia. Someone is shot over there weekly, sometimes daily. The area of the store could be considered 'shaking grounds' as far as being in a safe neighborhood also.
I told the young man he was lucky to be alive, and have full use of his knee. That opened the door to his story. He began talking by reveling how he used to be into drugs but now he has a daughter and he was through with all that mess. I congratulated him for making a good life choice. He smiled. I turned and began walking to where the hunting knives are located. He followed me and asked if I wanted to see his knee. I said , "Well, sure . . . I guess". Before I knew it he jerked up his shorts and sure enough there was a bullet hole. Now healed it looked like a round bruise, combined closely with a long jagged scar. I told him it healed nicely and then he offered to show me how it looked before he was healed. Bam!!! He snapped open his cellphone and there in living color is his bloody knee just moments after being shot. It looked nasty for sure. I asked who shot him? I probably shouldn't have asked that question, because the answer I got was a blank stare. It just popped out before I could stop it. I laughed and said, "Never mind, I don't know anyone in Columbia. Sorry I asked." He gave a curt nod and started to walk off. Then he turned around and wanted to know why I was looking at 8 inch knives. I laughed again and said without thinking, "To keep from getting shot in the knee!" Not everyone gets my sense of humor. . . I keep forgetting that. He said, "Jesus Lady. . ." looked at me like I had just grown a third eye and made his way to the door. . . Never bring a knife to a gun fight little boy - - - everyone knows that:) Kids!!! I need the knife for fishing. One side of the blade is a fish scalier.
Tommy and the cashier were knee deep in war stories, when I walked over to join them. I like to listen to men talk, so I kept quiet while my husband and a stranger tried to settle the world's problems. They didn't have any luck with that one.
It was a good day in my corner of the world. We laughed a lot. Had several serious conversations and ate another couple's platter at Long John Silver's. It was close to what we ordered...not worth the trouble to get a reorder and both were the same price.
Getting out of house was good, coming home was even better.
