The Old Man and the Sign

My Dad sent me a sign tonight. It was Rodney.
When I visit my Dad at the cemetery, I chat with him a bit, walk over to the older relatives, back to my Dad, and then I glance over to Rodney and wave. Tonight, when I asked for a sign, which I always do, the Old Man made me really look at Rod's headstone.

July 31, 1999

10 years is a long time, but it really seems like yesterday.

I was just telling a co-worker today about Rodney, because she lost a young friend in an accident this week. Too sad.

I still remember that Saturday afternoon. My parents, Hannah, and a brother were at a picnic. I was about to join them, but got a call from Sister Helen (Rod's aunt). There'd been a farm accident and to pray. I walked up and down that sidewalk at my folks' house, carrying baby Sophie, whispering Hail Mary after Hail Mary.

Well, my prayers were answered, but not how I wanted, if that makes sense. Rod was called to Heaven. Some might argue where he went, but I know. He left a daughter and a woman who had loved him, and I was lucky enough to get to know those special girls after Rod passed.

I wasn't always nice enough to Rodney. Anyone who knew him knew it was sometimes hard to be nice though. Boy, he could tease me. One time, when we were teenagers, he made me so mad that I snatched his hat off his head and threw it on top of my parents' house. People laughed. He laughed, but I think I hurt his feelings, for which now I am sorry. He was just a boy to me...always.

Fast forward...at my wedding reception, where smoking was prohibited (Yes, even then, I was vehement!), Rod lit up. I told him off, but that didn't change anything. What a character! And then he made me feel so loved. He told my new husband that if he ever hurt me, he would be sorry, very sorry. He probably pounded his fist or something like that, and I'm sure gave him a very scary look to which I replied with my own scary look back at him, but no one could make him behave and secretly, I was pleased. I am sure that Rod would have carried out that threat if I had asked him, but I didn't want him to get into trouble. (And the ex-husband is "sorry" enough on his own!)

Rod was a good ol' boy until the end of his life...in many ways, but in the most obvious way to me, he was a boy in his heart, but trapped in a troubled body and hurt spirit. He's better now, easier now, content. But now, when a storm goes through, it's not God bowling; it's Rod thundering through, watering the crops, using those powerful feelings for good.

Life may have been hard for him at times, but he enjoyed it the best that he could. Someone reminded me tonight about Rod's laughter...

Can't you hear him laughing with us right now?

I can. He had a laugh. Man, he had a laugh. And I know I made him laugh a time or two.

After the funeral, they gave me something to remember him, not that I could ever, ever forget my lifetime friend, that boy that grew up down the road. They gave me a hat...a seed farm hat. I'm not sure that they remembered the hat incident, but I do. And I know that Rod got them to give it to me. I keep it at my Mom's on the top shelf of the closet in the spare room, because I just want to keep it. Keep it there. Keep it safe.

I know that Rod is one of my guardian angels. And now...I've gone through at least a dozen Kleenex. My eyes are swollen, and I'll have a crying headache tomorrow. I hope Rod knows that I would not do that, that crying, for just anyone.

So, where was my Dad trying to point me?

Embrace life. Don't be afraid to enjoy who comes into your life. The people in your life are what makes it wonderful and special and meaningful.

So, that's not exactly how the Old Man would have said it, but more like...

You do what you have to do.

And he probably would have added...

Oh...just get along with people.

And for good measure, Pop would have thrown in...

Are those your pajamas you're wearing out of the house?

He thought everything I wore in the 80s were pajamas. (I'm too sad. I gotta end on funny.)

I love Rodney. He is in my heart.

Judge Mary or Pastor Mary or Sharey-Mary?

I don't judge people. I don't preach. I am more open-minded the longer I live. My friends are Baptist, Mormon, Catholic, Baptist, Lutheran, etc...I love them all. My Mother says I am too nice to my ex. My friends say that I am too nice to my previous dysfunction.

No one is going to change because of anything I say or do, but I am still nice to them. If I can be nice to my ex after he broke my heart, then I can be nice to most anyone. When I am upset about something, I write or I stare out the window and compose prose in my head. Writing, at least, makes it seem as though I am working. While staring out the window, well, that would not look like it.

We all have our demon-issues. I never said bad habits make bad people. I had a lifelong friend who weighed around 800 pounds when he died. He had to crawl up the stairs, because he couldn't walk up them. He smoked, drank, and ate. His obsessions were upsetting, but I still miss his protective presence. I think briefly about him and his sadness almost every day. I didn't judge Rodney. I didn't preach to him. I did throw his hat on the roof once when he made me mad. It shocked the heck out of him and made him laugh, which made me madder. I surely shared with him what I thought about things though.

That's all...just sharing my thoughts @ anything or nothing.