I'm Not Crazy

~36~ That's what friends are for...

Keep smiling, keep shining
Knowing you can always count on me, for sure.
That's what friends are for
In good times and bad times
I'll be on your side forever more...

That's what friends are for ~Dionne Warwick

💀💀💀

The morning of the 20th we check out of the Ocean Beach B & B early. Then make the drive up to the Miramar National Cemetery to go see my father. Where we stroll slowly through the silent stone gardens towards where my father's cross stands among his fallen comrades.

After drifting silently through row after row of stone markers, I finally stand in front of the white stone cross with my father's name on it. Lt. Commander Kevin Patrick O'Reilly - KIA NCM. The KIA is for Killed In Action, which is pretty self explanatory. The NCM is for the Naval Commendation Medal. Also known as doing something super heroic just before you got KIA.

My mother and I lay out a small picnic of all my dad's favorite deli foods. With a small bottle of his favorite brand of Gwertsiminer wine, that neither one of us will touch. My mother because she has to drive, and me because I am too young to legally drink. Besides I have a bad feeling that alcohol and crazy might not be the best mix. So we sit on the grass and snack on stuff, while we catch the cross up on all the nice things that have happened in the last year.

By silent agreement, we don't tell the stone cross about anything bad. So no mention of my mini mental meltdown or the Slapfight suspension from school. We also don't mention anything about my mother's new happy life with Buddy either. Or especially not about the engagement ring that she is not currently wearing out of respect for the dead. After all, we don't want the rock to be depressed after we go away and leave it alone for another year.

After we are both all talked out, we just sit silently for a while with the white stone. Thinking about what's not been going on with the empty box underneath our feet. I am wondering why we even bothered to drive down here to do this anymore? When we could have just stayed home and thought sad thoughts? Because I'm pretty sure there is more of my father around my wings, than under the nice white stone cross with his name on it.

So after lunch, we respectfully clean up all traces of our visit. Pour the wine in the grass, so that it will make its way into the afterlife. Most surprisingly thing to me is that the big cathartic moment with my mother over my Wings never seems to materialize. Like a lot of things, it must have seemed like a good idea in theory? But in reality it was just too shitty to do at the last minute.

The long drive back north, reminds me of the first time we made this drive the month after the funeral. Which was also oddly enough when we first became best friends. When my mom checked out of my life as my mother. When I became the best friend she needed me to be, in order to get her through the worst time of her life. There is something else that occurs to me as we roll through Oceanside, putting the past behind us for another year. I realize that somewhere along the line, I've decided not to be a very good best friend with her anymore.

I love my mom and I know she loves me. But I think we've been on different paths since the day my dad died. My path has been all about wallowing in sorrow, while trying to hang on to the echoes of my old idyllic childhood. My mother's chosen path has been about moving forward and taking second chances at the life that maybe my dad and I had deprived her of the first time.

I mean I know that she is sad my dad is dead and everything? But grieving widow and evil real estate tycoon-in-training went hand in hand pretty damn fast. I know it's not fair to think that she didn't grieve long and hard enough. That she wasn't sad enough, or that she didn't cry enough. That she wasn't alone long enough with her sorrow. Or that this engagement with Buddy was way too fast, and way too soon.