It’s been five years.
I have visited the cemetery a very few times. Very few.
At first I guess I was afraid of the sorrow that might overwhelm my soul, then it was apprehension, then it was denial and now I have no idea what it is. I just do not visit as much as I thought I would if and when such an eventuality occurred.
A few days ago I did. I just found myself there.
In good Middle Eastern graveyard tradition, there are always little boys begging, taking advantage of your sorrow, thinking that maybe you would give money away if they said some nice things about the deceased, the same things they say to everyone that is caught in a moment of grieving. Not me however, I would not fall into that trap, the boy will not catch me in my low moment, as low as it is, it will not be there broadcast for public viewing.
We exchanged angry looks, from my side at least, me trying to show him through eye contact that I am angry (low, depressed and about to collapse inside) but angry and strong on the outside, you know, a silly self defense mechanism that maybe even the little boy could easily uncover. He, on the other hand tried to look sad and poor and needy. Both our techniques did not work, I did not feel sad for him, nor did he respect my sorrow or feel threatened by my anger. I thought to myself if this did not work maybe shouting would, so I shouted. Told him to run away and respect my moment of grief, my moment of trying to “connect” with my loved one lying there. Of course he has heard this a million and one times and it really had no effect on him, to him shouting maybe translates to “beg more maybe you will get me exasperated enough to give you money to get rid of you”. Maybe if I spoke beggar I would have known that this is asking for more of what I don’t want. So being the nice person I am, especially in such low levels of depression unknown to me prior to that day, I looked around and located my nearest weapon, the biggest stone I could find, and believe me there are many in this cemetery. I held it, raised my hand with a gesture of pure animosity and prepared to throw. He moved back, did not run as expected, but merely moved back, as if getting himself out of range. Maybe he saw how weak I was and that I would only manage a meter or two of trajectory force.
He chose a nearby grave and went to sit on it, as if it is his living room sofa. I turned back to face the grave but could still see him out of the corner of my eye. I hated him, he was ruining my experience, whatever that experience was supposed to be. He was killing the moment that I thought I would be having when I found myself driving there, whatever that moment was supposed to be. I tried to concentrate to dismiss him out of my mind, I could not and I suddenly turned to him and said, “you know, you could wait until you lie next to these guys here and you wont see a penny from me”, the moment the words left my mouth I felt how lame they sounded. Bad, very bad script writing. As if by magic my lame statement got him moving, he started walking away but not without mumbling something along the way.
Now, I turned back towards the grave and looked and said “now” with a little smile, “now we are all by ourselves” just like two lovers whom almost had their romantic moment killed we were all alone now. So I looked at the grave, and waited for that feeling to come. Of course not knowing what you should feel makes it a bit tough, but I knew I should feel something. Don’t they in movies always go to cemeteries, have a great shot of them crying, talking about their lives and what happened to them and how they are getting along and then they have this great “aha” moment when everything is crystal clear and they have all the solutions for all their problems? Where is that God damn moment? We were alone, no begging boy, no one in sight, all alone me and dad, so where is that moment of clairvoyance I was waiting for? I smiled; the way we used to smile when something silly happened in front of us and only we both got it, and told him:
“You know, this is not working, I talk to you better at home, late at night when you normally come and visit. Now I understand why you hated cemeteries, they are merely a resting place just as they are called, nothing more, nothing less, a body warehouse so to speak, you are not here, nothing is here, even your name on the tombstone is not the reference to you anymore, your name stopped being a reference to you the moment you moved on, now you are just you, now you do not need silly labels like names, now you are you, just you, the pure essence we are meant to be, no restraining names, no crippling bodies, no choking voices, just you, and this is whom I now know. When you come to see me at home I know you the way I never did before, I feel you the way I never felt you before, I love you like I never did before.”
You hated cemeteries? You were right, now I know why, they are meaningless places. I don’t think I will visit you again the way people think they are supposed to visit, I will let you visit me the way you should visit, the real true visit, deep in my heart and soul.”
I love you
Good Bye stupid cemetery.