It’s been a full year since Jon died and left me widowed. It’s been a year — and he’s still gone.
All these months later, I keep thinking he’ll come back. Any minute he’ll show up, flushed and sweaty from the recumbent bike in the guest room, ready for a shower. Or in the kitchen at 6 p.m., ready to start dinner.
Where Is He?
Where is Jon? He’s not here and I don’t know why. Did I do something wrong?
Did I hog the flat-screen TV? The morning paper? Did I not love him enough?
Was I too critical of him? If he washed his face with a guest towel, I’d chastise him. Is that where I went wrong?
Or was it the cat? I’m allergic to cats, but Jon was in thrall to the next-door cat. If she meowed at our front door, he’d let her into the house, carry her up to his office, and close the door.
If I spotted that closed door, I knew right away what Jon was up to. I’d open the door with a huff, give my husband a piece of my mind, and put the cat outdoors.
Jon loved cats — and certain vegetables. During the worst of the pandemic we agreed to get our groceries delivered. But Jon could not resist the call of the supermarket vegetable bins.
If I was running low on non-fat milk, that was pretense enough for Jon to make an illicit trip to the store. He’d return, sheepish, with a carton of milk for me, and for himself, his signature vegetables — artichokes, asparagus and an almost-ripe avocado.
What to Leave on His Grave?
Jon was put off by flowers arranged in bouquets. I don’t know why. I never asked why. That’s a secret he took to his grave, and I wish he hadn’t. Knowing why he felt that way about cut flowers would tell me something about him.
Whatever his reasons, I wanted to respect Jon’s feelings about flowers as I got ready to visit to his grave last Saturday. What could I leave with him? Something that showed Jon that I loved him — that I knew him.
Why not vegetables? That was it. Vegetables. I’d take vegetables to Jon’s grave — his beloved artichokes, asparagus and avocados.
And so, last Saturday on the first anniversary of Jon’s death, our daughter Christina and I made the trek across the Bay to Colma to leave a basket of vegetables on Jon’s grave.
Jon was good at laughing. I’m pretty sure he got the joke.
And I’m pretty sure he knew I loved him.
Need a change of pace — some levity? Go to, “When Your Six-Year-Old Wants to Talk Money.” Or try, “Why Can’t a Dad Be More Like a Mom? Do We Really Want Them to Be?”
Thinking of you, and Jon —
Thanks, Janet.
Thanks for sharing this. Jon was such a special and fun person with a personality that we all loved. I will
always remember his tender spot for animals and how he snuck up to our attic to pet and visit our new shelter kitties. Such a tender heart!
Sounds like Jon to me!
Jon was laughing indeed. And what a beautiful vegetable arrangement it was.
As I imagined myself placing a sentimental bouquet of flowers on Jon’s grave, I could see his eyes rolling. Jon was not one to take himself seriously. His way of expressing affection was with a gentle, knowing joke.
What a sweet article! I like it!
I was pretty sad as I wrote it. Good that it wound up feeling sweet.
That was a very sweet, moving piece, Barbara.
Thank you, Bill. It means a lot to hear that from writer-you.
Oh, grief has so many parts and stages to it. Love so much how you honored him with his beloved vegetables. Jon, I believe, is chuckling!
Yes. He is chuckling. I always liked to make him chuckle. But I think he was actually better at making me laugh than the other way around.
Thinking of you – Greg
Thank you, Greg! That’s really, truly good to know.
You two were such a joy to be around in the brief time we got to work together and enjoy each other’s company. I think you loved the guy plenty and he seemed to feel the same about you! Such great vibes in that house. Such great vibes.
Blake, thank you for saying this. The setting that you helped the two of us create during our Big Covid Shut-Down Remodel, still carries those vibes. I love just being in those rooms and on that deck.
I’m sure too!
Thanks, Peter. Big hug.
lovely… wasn’t there some non-flower theme at his memorial reception?
love the theme of ‘secrets taken to the grave’ … maybe some of us should practice asking those ?s now .. I think about the ?s I had yet to ask my dad… I think you have a head start on day-of-the=dead offering. <3
Right. The florist at Cypress Lawn created totally wonderful table centerpieces with succulents, sticks and twigs. The succulents are still alive, but getting leggy, and I’m wondering whether to plant them outdoors (their drought tolerant and deer resistant!). As for the Day of the Dead, Jon loved getting dressed up in costumes. If I were to honor him on that day, it would have to be trying to scare the grandkids over Skype with his fake gorilla teeth.