Remember, Remember The 16th of November
This is a blog post I wrote on this day in aught seven. Felt like reposting it today.
I Went To Church Today
Just so you all know.
I went to church today. It’s been a while.
I went to light a candle for my father. Today is his birthday and I needed to mark it somehow. It’s a simple gesture, a plea for one who must be kept, but it’s a ritual I’ve always found nice. Lovely, even.
My father forgot his own birthday once. This is when he was younger than me, probably nineteen or twenty. He was alone in a bus station in, I think, Kansas, and he noticed someone reading a paper. He noticed the date on the page was Nov. 16th and asked the person, “Is that today’s paper?”
“No,” she said, “It’s from yesterday. Someone left it on the bench.”
He shrugged, he told me, and thought, “Huh. I’m twenty now.”
I believe he then asked for the sports section and that was that.
Beneath the candles at the Basilica of St. Lawrence is a small, hand written sign-basically a post-it note- that says, “votive candles, 25 cents each.”
And I thought, “Is that what a prayer costs? What a memory costs?”
I thought about how Adam Duritz tells us that “The price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings.”
And on days like today it’s hard not to focus on the prices we pay.
It’s hard to understand that, high as they may be, for what you get in return, it’s a steal.
It’s hard to remember your father without remembering how much you miss him. But on days like today, it’s a worth wile endeavor. On all days, but especially on days like today, I much prefer to be simply glad he was born and that I got to share 24 of his birthdays with him.
I paid my quarter-dollar and let the smoke carry my words to my dad.
Then I just threw in everything else I had in my pockets because, fuck it, for what you get in return, it’s a steal.
I went to church today. I spoke to my father through ashes and wax.
But just in case they’ve got the interweb in the afterlife now: Happy Birthday, Daddy. I love you dearly, sir. I still miss the hell right out of you everyday. And I’m sorry I didn’t get you any new books this year. Figuring out the delivery proved a bit tricky.
E
