Two Old Men Meet At Their Gravesite Poem by Bill Galvin

This is not as bad as it sounds.

I went back to Prospect Hill to see Deb
After being there yesterday for the first time
In three long months of traveling tribute and retreat.
And I brought three daisy pots; two white, one yellow.
They accent nicely the petunias and geraniums
That were planted there by our caring sisters.

Since we are located in the front row,
I park there on the narrow dirt road.
(I jokingly say I got front row so, as we get older,
We don’t have to leave our car to say Hi) .

I situate the flowers; they look nice.
I have my coffee with me, and I light a small cigar,
As I am much more relaxed than yesterday.
It’s a dismal, dreary day; cool, steady, light rain falling;
But it is not bothersome; I pull a few weeds,
And I meander around amongst the headstones,
And have light conversation with myself and Deb.

A black SUV pulls up behind me.
It stops about ten sites down, and a man gets out,
Stands in front of a gravesite quietly,
Hands folded, head down, for a few minutes.
He weeps; he blows his nose.
When he pulls away, I make sure he has room to get by,
And he does, so I give him a little wave.
He stops; window rolls down.

“How are you? ” I ask, our common bond obvious to both,
As his site also has only flowers… a recent passing.
“Been better. Just come here now and then to see my wife.”
“Same here.” I don’t love cigars enough
To spoil someone else’s air, so I am letting it go out.
“Someone stole our plaque… American Legion…
Can’t believe it. And broke the American flag we had.”
There are flags all over the cemetery, I noticed;
It was Flag Day a couple of days ago.
“Was it a large bronze piece? ” “Yeah.”
“Well, they’re melting them down for cash. Happens a lot.”
“That makes sense.” It eased his mind that it wasn’t personal.
“But they didn’t have to break the flag.”
“I know. But anyone who’d do this, they’re idiots anyway.”
“Yeah. She died from a form of MS; very weak at the end;
They put the feeding tube in and she gave up.”
“My wife had ALS; didn’t want the tube; not worth it.”
“It’s good in a way; she was suffering. Better to go.”
“I agree. I call it a beautiful torture, watching it all;
But knowing they are going to a better place.” He nods.
“Yeah. That’s right. I’m 81, and she was 11 years younger.
They said I robbed the cradle, but I’m so glad I did;
We were great together.”
“I felt the same, but it was only 5 years difference.”
“She grew up in Millis; that’s why we’re here.”
“You buy a double? You coming here, too? ”
“Oh yeah, I’ll be here.”
“Same here. My wife grew up here, too.”
“I sold the house. Going to live with my daughter in Utah.”
“No kidding. I was just there two weeks ago. Whereabouts? ”
“The hills outside Salt Lake City.”
“Ah, nice country. Beautiful. Drove right through there.”
“Already shipped the furniture and stuff. Flying out in July.”
“Well, good luck, it’s been great talking with you;
I wish you all the best. My name is Bill, by the way.”
We shook hands through the window.
“Mine is Don. Nice talking with you, too, Bill.”
“Have a great trip, Don,
And I will keep an eye on your gravesite for you.”
“Would you, Bill, that would be nice. Thank you so much.”
“So long.” “So long.”

(Well, Deb, that was nice, wasn’t it? Nice neighbors.)

I place my dampened cigar in one of the pots,
Just to imagine my Honey Pie rolling her lovely blue eyes
At another absurdity of mine.
I’ll take it out tomorrow when I come back
With tools to plant the daisies.


6-15-2015