Today is the start of a day where I would rather just bundle myself up in the sheets and face no one. Go no where. Be nobody. Today is my grandmother's birthday. Mrs. Violet Fitzpatrick Wiltshire. I never learned her middle name. Never really knew if she had one. Although that isn't a fact that matters much now.
When I was younger I would buy her an African Violet plant for her kitchen window. As it grew she would transfer the plant to her garden in the back yard, where it would eventually die. After her death I would go to her gave and plant one every year. They never flourished. They were always dead by the time I'd return a year later. Once it became an unreasonable distance to travel, I stopped. I figured no one would notice. But I notice. I acknowledge the lack on her grave. I still feel a guilt inside when I deem the errand unimportant enough to make time for it. Possibly because of all her family left alive and living in NY, I am probably the only visitor she ever gets. This year is no exception. I feel immensely sad and wished I had woken up early enough to go way out to Gravesend cemetery and put some fresh flowers on her grave, at the very least. But I didn't, and by the time I get off work tonight, my visit would be considered trespassing.
I miss her so much. Its been a while since I've felt her spirit in this realm. I use to be able to feel her with me when I was out on the road. But now, I feel nothing but empty space. Her warmth, compassion, peaceful, naturing demeanor is gone.
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