I really didn’t like the ending of The Sopranos. That whole fade to black thing doesn’t
provide the closure this old dude needs in his life. I like things to be tied in a nice little bow
for me. MASH, that was a good
ending. I like closure, like BJ waving
at a departing Hawkeye.
That’s kind of where I am right now. In the process, maybe a little afraid of it,
but looking for closure, so I’m going on a trip. I think, I hope, it will provide a physical
and emotional end to feeling Marty’s death in one way and moving to the long
term feeling of Marty’s passing.
Anyway, Matt and Erin drilled some small holes and put in
some of Marty’s ashes. From there, Matt
and I lit some fuses and we sent her off, green and red and gold streaks exploded
across the night sky as Marty’s grandkids and family yelled, “Mom
Bomb”. She would have absolutely loved
it.
So….I’m going on a drive-about. At the first part of October my buddy Skip
and I are going to make a drive to all the places Marty and I lived. We are going to Hillsboro, Paris, Muenster
and Lubbock (just in time for a TxTech football game).
We are also going to Pendaries, New Mexico where Marty’s
folks had a mountain home. She loved
that place and how it felt, winter and summer.
Buddy Skip, who loved the broken Marty, is going to take a little of
Marty to a National Park and let her rest with the ancients. We will then head to Colorado Springs where
Marty and I honeymooned 43 years ago. We
will end our sojourn in Dalhart, Marty’s hometown.
My goal in this is to reset and restore memories. I don’t want my everlasting memories to be of
Marty lying there in the hospital bed. I
want them to be of sitting in a garage watching the rain in Lubbock. I want them to be of driving early, early in
the morning and having to go slow when I wanted to drive like a bat at of hell as
we made our way to the hospital where Matt was born in Paris. 
I want to remember her singing the the
Hallelujah Chorus at Sacred Heart at Catholic Church in Muenster and sitting by
the pool at the country club in Hillsboro and watching as she stood and led a
small Christmas service in Pendaries New Mexico. I want my everlasting memories to be of
Halloween parties, jumping off house boats, and crying and laughing as we
delivered kids to college.
I don’t know how each of the stops will go. I don’t know what I’m going to do or say as
we cast little pieces of Marty adrift in the all the places that made her the
person she was. It sounds like the right
thing to do. It feels like the right
thing to do, I’ll have to let you know if the whole thing turned out as right
as it sounds to my ear and if closure, for me, will ever happen.
I suspect it will.
