I don't know why this is so pressing. It all started with a dinner conversation. It all started with the day that presented itself like a gift that I did not want to open. Such is life. Such is something that crops up without expecting it. Without preparation.
Dinner time is a good time to open up. Food does that.
Dinner time relaxes the mind and the body and joins the family in a common bond.
Memories surface. Where do they come from? And why? And for what purpose?
......I am driving down a leafy street in late Ocotober. My mother has been dead since August the 16th. My journey is rough and full of grief and the Autumn leaves make the road look beautiful yet immeasurably sad. And there is nothing before me but blacktop and white lines to ensure that I obey the rules. Follow the boundaries
I drive on and come to a junction. Two cars ahead of me. A bus turns onto the road and drives in the opposite direction and there sitting by the window in one of the seats is my father. A pause. A recognition. A frantic wave. More waves. I wave back. We are both connecting. And he, the lone passenger in a bus heading home to a house where nothing only ghosts will greet him and empty rooms to remind him of what once was. And our waves signify nothing and everything and that is what bothers me now.
I think I should have turned around. Followed the bus until my father came to his stop. Picked him up and taken him somewhere. Told him my soul. Told him that I loved him. Told him that life is full of nothings and everythings. But I did not. I kept on driving. To what I don't know. To a meeting for coffee perhaps. Or a store to buy a new tablecloth. A pair of socks. A stupid face cream. Whatever. I should have turned back. I should have. I see him now. Delighted with the chance encounter. The mere footsteps of our souls meeting on a road. The very chance of it. It bothers me. It haunts me. It will never leave me.
And now when I drive by that very place I see him. I see the bus and the face and the grief. I see the glass. The wave. The sadness of people on buses. The way we all collide into one final fall. The life that kept him going. The ending. The desperate lonely wave and the way I kept on driving into nothing but a false dream.