Today was one of those days. We have to accept that we will often have one of those days. Recently, I've had more than my fair share of those days. It feels like I've said "those" too many times now, and it's starting to sound weird. When that happens, it's a really uncomfortable feeling.
Those.
As I was walking to the place where my grandmother and grandfather were buried, I couldn't help thinking about the events of the day up to that point. I often visit the cemetery when I need to think more clearly about things. The relative quietness of the place seems to help.
Passing by the office of the crematorium, I saw a woman put a box of chocolates on the ground, back away, and a man pick them up. From a safe distance, she told him they were a "thank you" for all his help. The rest of the conversation happened as I had walked too far past them to hear. I reflected on how the pandemic and resulting restrictions on our lives had changed the fundamental nature of such moments.
The colour of the artificial flowers placed at my grandparents' headstone had faded long ago. The wind had blown some of them into the grass. It was impossible to tell, or remember, which belonged there and which had blown from other graves. A number of the headstones were adorned with a fair mixture of artificial flowers, suggesting that few others remembered where each flower had belonged. Maybe they all belonged where they were currently, for the time being at least.
In line with my grandparents' beliefs, I bowed my head in prayer. My grandfather was a Catholic, and my grandmother was a Protestant. Broadly speaking, they were Christian. I thought about the lives they had led, or the little I knew of their lives. For both of them, there had been many twists and turns of fate, but somehow they had been okay.
I looked up at the sky. Over the distant hills, I saw a dark grey mass of cloud. It was about to rain. In reality, it's always about to rain. We just don't know when. The presence of rain is always a possibility, just as the presence of sunshine is always a possibility. The jacket I was wearing wasn't waterproof, and I had no hood or umbrella. The choice was to stand there longer, deep in thought, or to leave and stay dry. Thinking about the lives my grandparents had led, I stayed a few minutes longer, deciding not to fear the rain. They had, after all, weathered many storms.
The wisdom I took from the visit was to not live in fear of what might happen - to not fear the rain.
On a previous visit to the cemetery, the epiphany had been regarding a woman in China. I had got to know her over the internet. Well, our options for meeting new people are somewhat limited right now. In the silence, I had time to consider our interactions up to that point, and how we had navigated cultural differences and other misunderstandings. I thought about lessons I had learned from my grandfather in particular. There was no doubt about what my heart was telling me: I was going to have a Chinese girlfriend.
As I was returning home today, the car in front of mine grabbed the last remaining parking space on the street outside my home. What it meant was that I'd have to walk a few blocks from my car, and back to it when it was needed again. A minor inconvenience. The words I shouted, in the safety of my car, towards the other driver would suggest that a major catastrophe had occurred.
Yeah, it has been one of those days.
