A Visit To My Wife - Leonard Kleeman's Blog

A VISIT TO MY WIFE

A Blog by Len Kleeman

The dandelions had grown high and the wind blew the seeds across the spacious green lawn.  Fortunately, the seeds, becoming just weeds, will plant themselves and grow again.  They will flower again for a short time and add some unwanted yellow color to the barren grounds.  The heavy rains and snow during the past winter storms caused some markers to sink into the ground.  Benches were tilted and also sinking with large amounts of earth washed away.  Flower vases had been knocked over but fresh flowers for Mother's Day and birthdays and memorials were in abundance and the perfumed smell floated through the air, hopefully making up, somehow, for the damaged markers and benches. 

 People across the road were bundled up because of the wind even though the Springtime temperatures were mild.  They all wore dark clothing and huddled under a tent-like canopy.  I could hear the chant of the rabbi as they lowered the coffin into the open grave. The sobs were carried away with the winds.  

I talked to my wife and told her of the damage that had been done around her during the long winter as I sat on the bench in front of her.  I told her all about what was happening with me and our children and grandchildren and the family and everything else that was new that she had not heard about.   I sat for a while and lingered with the smell of the flowers surrounding me.   I told her how I had loved her and missed her.  My sobs echoed with those of the people across the road.  I waited for them to leave.

As their limousines and the hearse drove away I rose up from my seat and placed a stone on her memorial plaque.  I brushed off the dirt and observed the other five stones on the marker that my children had left for her birthday.   I said goodbye and told her that I would return soon to talk again and will do that until I join her under the yellow flowers and the dandelions.   I don't know when that will be but I will visit her until the flowers grow on top of both of us. 

May 8, 2014