At Gravesite

How is it I draw near to you as I approach this common ground, yours above and mine beneath connecting our mortality yet still symbolic of the separation that took place as I laid you there apart from everyday. I know you hover there with me, our mutuality in tribute to the Adam dust that formed us, carries us along to ride the winds across the fields and towns forever while these minutes here when I look down, resist, and in our tryst pause to allow 'I love you's' here and now to bridge the days beyond when I must turn away. The visits carry vanity as well. I choose them to assuage my feelings of neglect; it never works. The stone, defiant, strong in its assault upon my eyes betrays the irony its vigil promises. Its song of death alone is all I hear behind my upraised heel. But it is not the ash, the dust, the winds, the stone of taciturn reproach I keep upon my heart as I drive off. It is your voice I hear again, "Dad, I'll always be here, loving you." You knew I needed that. ~