Sunday, April 10, 2016

“You should be here.” My friend Great Aunt Ray. The lyrics bring me to you each time.
We lost you for a while. I can remember phone calls, visits to Nashville to see you, your voice. I can remember your funeral. But I couldn’t quite remember where you were buried.

Google wasn’t any help.
But finally an old piece of paper surfaced and we could find you.  Lori went first and searched the gardens for you. Yesterday I stood at your grave.

You should be here. You would have loved MyFella. You would have loved Jamie. You should have met us for lunch yesterday. You should have been at the house, or us at yours. That’s just one example, one weekend. What seems like a whole lifetime of experiences since you left us – you should have been near for all of it – and I near for yours.
For years I saw you in the crowd – a gray head and square shoulders from a distance. It took years for you to fade from my daily conscious. It took a year for me to quit crying for you.  Whenever my time was quiet, I cried for you. There are things I do that remind me of you, things I see that I know you would like.  Things that crept into my routine that are quiet reminders of you.

Yesterday I stood at your grave. Today I weep like you just left me yesterday. Oh, Ray, you should be here.
"You should be here, standing with your arm around me here.
Cutting up, cracking a cold beer, saying cheers, hey y'all it's sure been a good year.
It's one of those moments, that's got your name written all over it.
And you know that if I had just one wish it'd be that you didn't have to miss this
You should be here."


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