Get the Message Right - Part four

One of my earliest memories of my father is riding the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland with him.

It has always been my favorite attraction but until I was probably 10 years old, there was one part of the attraction that really freaked me out.

It was immediately after the ballroom scene when your doombuggy turns left and you find yourself in the attic of this Southern-style mansion.

It's where the pop ups begin and where I would hide behind my dad's back.

I would flinch each time I would hear one of the pop up scream and my dad would just laugh and tell me that they couldn't get me.

I couldn't help but thing about this now that I'm wandering the cemetery looking for my dad's grave.

I've only been to the grave site once, to pick it out.

And now I can't find it.

Everything here feels familiar but things have changed just enough that I can not find my dad.

I drive to a couple of different spots.

Trying not to intrude on the private moments that are happening all around.

There's a young Japanese girl watering a grave as if she was tending to a field of tulips.

There's an LAPD honor guard getting ready for a cop funeral. I think it is for a retired policeman. I haven't heard of a cop dying recently and I see a license plate that says "WUZFUZZ."

There's a Latino family putting fresh pin wheels on a child's grave.

I finally narrow my search down to a plot that is about 75 yards by 75 yards.

It feels right here.

There are no tombstones here and the markers are placed just under the level of the grass so it ends up covering the edges of the marker. Probably makes it easier to mow these massive lawns.

This patch of graves is also on a slight incline. Making me start to huff and puff and I move around trying to find where my dad is.

I spent a long time looking for him. Probably too long.

But I finally found it.

Right where I left him.

I stand on top of his grave and it feels a little....strange.

The ground is almost concave here. As if his weight has caused the ground to sink a bit here.

I cleared the grass off of his marker. It was the first time that I've seen it.

It's been more than a year since he's been gone and it is still so painful to deal with.

I wish I could tell him what has been going on.

That he's going to have a grandson.

That Number 2 is going to be a sophomore in college at age 35 (yes, R.B. he's still single).

That we bought a new house.

That I'm in a new job.

I don't say any of this. I hate it when characters in movies and tv shows do this.

So I stand there and stare at the marker and think.

I hear bagpipes off in the distance. Must be for the cop funeral.

I can't think of a good reason to stay here any longer.

I take a mental picture of what this place looks like just in case I ever come back here again.

Unless the Chicken or Pancake wants to see it sometime down the road, I don't think I'll ever be back.

VW