=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Metamorphosis ------------- "That'll be 13 bucks even, buddy." I peel out a ten and a five and hand it to the driver. Sometime i have them wait, but something tells me that I won't a cabbies services for a while today. "Thanks and have a good one.", I reply. "Hey same to you," he says as I close the cab door. I fold my newspaper up under my arms, and stare at the sky for a second. It is a perfect day. I couldn't ask for anything better. Not a cloud to be seen. At least Mother Nature will not interrupt my search for solace. It is May 30th, 1998. I am standing on the road side to lot 8 at the Fort Logan National cemetery. My mother is buried out here. So is a piece of my soul. The time is 10:56. In exactly 4 minutes it will have been 3 years since I buried my Mother. I don't mean for it to sound selfish, as if I was the only one here or anything. My family was here. My father, sister, extended family and so on, but I felt like I took the weight of the world on my shoulders those 3 days after she died. I took care of everything. From the selection of the casket to finding a Jewish Rabbi that would perform a ceremony for a non-jew, which was no mean feat, to finding six people who would do my the honor of carrying my Mother to her final resting place. O am not sure when I chance to grieve or if I ever really did. A sadness still haunts me. I walk into the neatly organized rows of finely polished marble head stones. They are all identical. Military organization, I would imagine. Frankly I like it that way. No creed or monetary standards established. Everybody the same. I have never bothered to memorize exactly where my Mothers head stone is. I like to walk among the other head stone. I like to see the things that have been left behind. I stop at one with a bouquet of flowers and a small Mickey Mouse statuette. A smile comes across my face. I remember the funeral for a moment. I wore a Mickey Mouse tie to the funeral. My Grandmother was appalled. Personally, I think that my Mother would have loved it. Sometime I think that too much seriousness is attached to Death. Apparently someone in CPO John J Poey's family agrees. I walk down a few more rows and across some head stones. I see various things left behind. About one in every five headstones have something there by it. Flowers are the predominant item left behind. A smattering of flags and pictures and odds and ends are arranged, with obvious care, near and around many of the headstones. It is 11:01 and I find my Mother. I see the words "Everyone please be seated. We are gathered here today not to mourn, but to remember a Wife, Mother and most importantly a woman that was important to all gathered her today." I look down and see Penelope J McDonald. Born Dec 23 1946 Died May 30 1995. There is a touch of grass stain near the bottom of the head stone. The smell of the fresh cut grass permeates the air. I never lived in a house with a lawn. I always associate this smell with my Mother. "I miss you," I say as I start to choke up. I reach into my back pack and take out a couple of pictures. There is one of my dog, who she left behind in my care. I take out a postcard of various animals from a zoo. She always loved animals and always had them around. Finally I take out a picture of me at my last vacation. This is simply a reminder that I have chosen to live my life instead of feel sorry for myself. I place then side by side and they stretch almost the width of the stone. Finally i take out a newspaper and sit down in front of her stone. I have taken to reading a newspaper to her. I tell her the stories of the day. I don't believe in God, but she did. I feel as though when I read to her, I am reminded that she is in a better place. A place free from Human Tragedy, Suffering, and Mistreatment. She is in a place when Money and Greed are not God. A place where there is no worries about where the next meal is going to come from or people are taken advantage of. She is in a place of eternal bliss and harmony. At least that is what i choose to believe. I read most of the main section. I skip over most of the rest of the paper. I place the rest of the paper back in my backpack, and take out a chocolate bar. A Hersheys with Almonds. Her Favorite. I place it on the top of the headstone. I KNOW that she will never taste it or eat it, but I know that she would have appreciated it. It is 12:18. he funeral would have been over by now and we all would have been gathered at a Denny's down the road. I would have been climbing the walls dying to get out of there. Away from all of those people. People who didn't know my Mother like I did. People who didn't see my Mother suffer those last few terrible weeks. People who only came to respect the dead, not to celebrate my Mothers life. I don't remember much from that lunch. The only thing that sticks out to me was some unknown Aunt who, as I was getting up to leave asks "Are you going back there today?" I replied "Yes I need to get the flowers to the resting area." She grabbed my hand and before I knew what was going one she pressed some money into my hand. "Would you please get her some flowers for me when you get a chance." I don't know if the embarrassment shone thru like a lighthouse on a clear night. All I know is that I lost all respect for humanity. I was never so ashamed for another person. I didn't say a word. I didn't buy the flowers. It is 12:20. I have been here for over an hour. "Mom, I saved your favorite for last. I never understood how a woman of God could ever like horoscopes. Maybe you say the humor in them that I see. Anyway here is ours. "Today is a day to be strong. You will undergo a great change in your life." I start to laugh out loud. "Well Mom, I think that they are about three years too late." I gather up my things, and sling my backpack over my shoulder. "Thanks Mom. Thanks for reminding that this life is too live." I check my pocket for a quarter and make my way towards to main building. I've got a cab to catch. skmcd skmcd@sni.net =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = = Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = = "subscribe fuck". 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