A Farewell Journey.
It started out as a journey to say goodbye. Elizabeth and I decided to go to Justin's grave and seek out some sort of closure or peace or whatever we might find there. Neither of us were at the funeral. Both of us felt compelled to stand at his grave, read his name, see the newly re-grown grass.
We picked up a few things for the visit: a dozen roses, 3 nips of vodka and a Peace Lily for Justin's mom. We dropped the plant off at her house and were silently thankful that no one was home. The first cemetery we found was huge. It was thankfully, not the right one. I walked over to the sign "Hazardville Cemetery" and shook a "nope" to E. I hopped into the car and that moment I turned on the radio and E says, "Where the heck are you Justin?" I turn up the volume and the voice of Jim Morrison singing fills the car. Justin's favorite band The Doors.
"Love me two times, because I've gone away."
Screwing with us from the Great Beyond. So Justin. E and I looked at each other and we laughed and then we cried.
We found the right cemetery after a stop at the church where his services were held. The graveyard was small, thank God. We had no idea where his grave was. We combed the entire cemetery searching every tombstone, every memorial, and cross for his name: Justin Lott. We had decided to give up and started to walk back towards the car. The roses were a little worse for the wear and the little bag of vodka was now a wadded up ball in my hand.
E glimpses a marker that just says Infant and right as she is about to say how sad that was, she spots Justin's name. He hadn't been officially engraved on the family headstone, but rather a small white marker the cemetery uses was at the foot of the plot.
There we were, standing above our friend, reading his name over and over. Justin Lott. There was a small memorial candle, a statue/candle holder, about 6 tee light candles, golf ball and club, a 49ers banner and chopsticks. Justin summed up in remnants of friends' and family's small tokens of who he was to them.
We sat down, one on each side, and listened to the wind and the birds. The sun was shining and the big blue was filled with marshmallow skies. A perfect summer day. Not 80 degrees and a warm breeze. I tossed E two nips of the vodka we had bought. I pulled petals from one of the roses and sprinkled them over his grave. E slowly poured the vodka over him and we joined him in a toast.
"To Justin."
We sat a bit longer and the question that had been haunting me popped out.
"How could he have ever thought the world would be better without him?"
E replied... "I have absolutely no idea."
We headed back to the car and I realized that Justin wasn't there. It struck me so suddenly that Justin never thought the world was better without him. I think maybe he thought he was better leaving it.
I feel a bit of peace about Justin's death. Maybe I was left feeling a little of what he might be feeling. Something that in life he could never quite get.
Goodbye friend.
We picked up a few things for the visit: a dozen roses, 3 nips of vodka and a Peace Lily for Justin's mom. We dropped the plant off at her house and were silently thankful that no one was home. The first cemetery we found was huge. It was thankfully, not the right one. I walked over to the sign "Hazardville Cemetery" and shook a "nope" to E. I hopped into the car and that moment I turned on the radio and E says, "Where the heck are you Justin?" I turn up the volume and the voice of Jim Morrison singing fills the car. Justin's favorite band The Doors.
"Love me two times, because I've gone away."
Screwing with us from the Great Beyond. So Justin. E and I looked at each other and we laughed and then we cried.
We found the right cemetery after a stop at the church where his services were held. The graveyard was small, thank God. We had no idea where his grave was. We combed the entire cemetery searching every tombstone, every memorial, and cross for his name: Justin Lott. We had decided to give up and started to walk back towards the car. The roses were a little worse for the wear and the little bag of vodka was now a wadded up ball in my hand.
E glimpses a marker that just says Infant and right as she is about to say how sad that was, she spots Justin's name. He hadn't been officially engraved on the family headstone, but rather a small white marker the cemetery uses was at the foot of the plot.
There we were, standing above our friend, reading his name over and over. Justin Lott. There was a small memorial candle, a statue/candle holder, about 6 tee light candles, golf ball and club, a 49ers banner and chopsticks. Justin summed up in remnants of friends' and family's small tokens of who he was to them.
We sat down, one on each side, and listened to the wind and the birds. The sun was shining and the big blue was filled with marshmallow skies. A perfect summer day. Not 80 degrees and a warm breeze. I tossed E two nips of the vodka we had bought. I pulled petals from one of the roses and sprinkled them over his grave. E slowly poured the vodka over him and we joined him in a toast.
"To Justin."
We sat a bit longer and the question that had been haunting me popped out.
"How could he have ever thought the world would be better without him?"
E replied... "I have absolutely no idea."
We headed back to the car and I realized that Justin wasn't there. It struck me so suddenly that Justin never thought the world was better without him. I think maybe he thought he was better leaving it.
I feel a bit of peace about Justin's death. Maybe I was left feeling a little of what he might be feeling. Something that in life he could never quite get.
Goodbye friend.
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