It's quiet at your home. We went there a few weeks ago. It was Easter and we had made you a basket and the kids got out of the car and some of them went to your side while others opted for the warmth of your car which is now not driven by you anymore.
When you died several people put dibs on your car.
I don't want your car, you always hated it when I drove your car. I'm too fast. I'm too careless.
We left a stone that Nora picked out at your home in the dirt. It is pink and heart shaped and says "Handle with Care." I'm not sure she wanted to leave it, but she did.
Everytime we go back, there is less.
The first time we went there were the beautiful yellow and pink and white celebratory flowers all over. But they wilted and now they are dead too in the ground with you.
The kids make it easy to forget about where you live now and yet it is impossible to forget.
Gary cries all the time and when we opened up the beach house I know you were watching me as I was trying not to be too careless with your yard but I can't seem to make it as beautiful as you.
We have another funeral to go to on Saturday and Chris has asked Sadie to sing that song that she sang at your funeral and she doesn't want to and I won't make her and so we will go to softball again.
When we watch Sadie play softball there you are shouting out direction and encouragement.
When we go to your new place in the ground I know you are not there and still you are there. I see you everywhere and then I am mad that you are not here.
I want to be cremated.
I don't want a place in the ground so that no one will come there to the lonely quiet place expecting to see me.