Celebration of Life…

I shoveled dirt into my brother’s grave.

I fucking hate that statement.

Back in November, Mom told me that Joe was going to be cremated and in the spring he would be buried at the cemetery in Savage where my [paternal] grandparents are.

Spring ended up being August 25th.

It was a smaller crowd this time, but think it was meant to be that way.

We gathered at the cemetery in the late morning. It was bright sunshine, hot and a little muggy, but far from the sweltering inferno of the days earlier in the week. The shade was comfortable, especially when a breeze came through.

Gayle had a few things to say and told a few stories. Joe’s best friend, Mark, told a couple of stories. My Uncle Jim made a metal marker to go with the headstone with a silhouette of a golfer since golf was Joe’s one true love. Gayle and my mom put his box of ashes in the ground and Gayle also added the ashes of the dogs they had together. Then she asked everyone to come through and add a shovel of dirt.

I’m used to the Catholic productions where pallbearers carry the casket to the grave site, the priest says a few prayers, and everyone leaves while someone else takes the job of putting the casket in the ground. Aside from the pallbearers (generally friends and family), it’s all very detached. This was far less formal but so much…more. And even though it was just a small, black box, it was still my brother. Watching him be put into the ground was impossibly hard.

Afterward there was a small luncheon at the American Legion in Savage. It was air conditioned and secluded, and a nice way to decompress a bit. The day wasn’t nearly as excruciating as his reviewal back in November, but…it still fucking hurts.

August marks nine months since Joe died. It also marks one year since the last time I saw him at my cousin, Jessica’s, wedding. When I hugged him goodbye, even though we never did that.

I think about him every single day and it still feels like some bullshit alternate reality.

Grief sucks.

(Miss You All the Time by O.A.R.)

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