My Lunch with D

He hasn't changed a bit. He's just as bubbly and loveable as always, since I last saw him four years ago. Perhaps the word is "sweet." But if I use it too much, Jorgh would probably start getting a bit jealous. ;)

I must have talked about an hour straight. It seemed that the time passed too quickly, because a brief lunch turned into an hour and a half, then he had to go back to the lab.

It's funny how people can get me to talk excessively when they ask the right questions. In fact, all D had to ask was how I got on with my in-laws (to be) and I shot off like an electron. (Stupid nerd joke.)

I even forgot to order for a good half hour. Well, not that there was too much to order anyway - it's all grease and deep-fried things. I was somewhat surprised at the greasy diner in that it seems like I've been somewhere similar in Quebec...

D was very happy to have a good long talk with me. I was very happy to have the opportunity to, since he works and I don't. In fact, everyone works, while I sit here getting flabbier. (Actually, I forgot to check on the garden today. I'll have to wake up early tomorrow to untangle the vines in the back.)

After lunch, he offered to give me a lift to Mount Hermon nearby, so I gladly accepted.

The Hour with my Dad

D declined going to the plot with me, not that there's much to see except a pile of rocks anyway. I agree. It's a very personal time and I had a lot of it, while he had to go back to work. D dropped me off at Maguire and Saint-Louis, and I bid him farewell for the time being.

As soon as I walked onto the cemetery grounds, I realized I had to go to the washroom. Really bad. But I wanted to see my father's grave first.

I walked down the hill to the "Q" plot and found the pile of coarse dirt. There is still no monument, as my sister just sent us sketches of ideas on what should be engraved on the granite.

I brought four sticks of incense, one for each family member, and a stupid matchbook that had matches that didn't light, until I set the paper side of two matches on fire. I think I tried at least six times before something would light up.

Not knowing the proper rituals, other than the bowing three times, I basically winged it, and then stayed until the sticks burnt out. It took about an hour. During the time I watched it burn, I talked to my dad.

It's much different when you're alone visiting a grave. It becomes a private conversation between the deceased and the living, with all the questions and comments you can't tell anyone else, spewing out like a broken sewer pipe. And it somehow resembles one as well.

I can't remember what I told my dad, but I did mention how I really had to go pee. And then muttering, "Why? Why is it so hard? And why did the waitress have to bring such a big glass of water?"

I cried a lot, more than I expected, but I tried to convince myself that I didn't have to cry anymore. I mean, tomorrow it will be two months since his death. People lose their loved ones all the time. So I shouldn't have to cry anymore. Right?

I tossed out the burnt sticks and proceeded back to civilisation. I couldn't figure out where I could go, as I had such a full bladder that I would have peed on the street if no one was watching.

Somehow, I made it to University Laval, which is quite a distance on foot with a crazy full bladder. The sun beating down on me wasn't really helping, but I'd rather it was really hot than really cold (thus contracting all my organs...) and I didn't really think about it at that point. What I was thinking about was more like, "WHERE'S THE CLOSEST FREAKING WASHROOM???"

I know what you're thinking. Maguire has all these restaurants. Why the heck didn't I go in one of those? Well, to give you the short explanation, I'm - as my dad would call it - "chicken shit." But I mean, if I could get to Laval campus without exploding, then I don't need to dirty the washrooms in a peaceful, charming, small bistro. Instead, I can void into a university campus washroom where they clean them every other hour anyway.

And it was a refreshing walk. No it wasn't. Man, it was so *not* a refreshing walk. It was refreshing afterwards. Oh, yes... ahhh...

Anyway, that was most of my day. Actually, sitting here and typing everything up consisted of the rest of my day. And finally getting those "Quebec allergies" that I keep experiencing every time I come to Quebec from Montreal.

***Disclaimer***
For those of you who found that the above bathroom mentions, shall I say, gross, please don't hesitate to tell me all about your discomfort.