Poppy

His name is carved in bronze for all eternity to read. Along with Ruth’s name. The dates they were born. The dates they died. I never met Ruth. What did he get from this life? Three children. One is my friend. The others are strangers - even to each other. What did he want? If I learned all I know of his wants from his eulogies, this is what I would know: He built the foundation of his porch with bricks he had salvaged from rubble of the Player’s Disco fire. He was a frugal man. He rebuilt the porch three times on the same salvaged foundation. He reused the nails. He taught his grandson how to straighten the nails. Each time he rebuilt the porch, he painted the floor gray and the ceiling robin’s egg blue. He liked to fish. He gave books to the children in the neighborhood every Christmas. Last Christmas he bought 29 books. Fearing a shortage, he began hoarding oil in the sixties. There are over a thousand cans of oil in his basement. He also converted his furnace to burn coal – just in case. He never needed to use the coal burner. He left behind a ton on unburned coal. He loved to garden. His niece brought a vase of blossoms from his trees to the graveside. There were lilacs, crabapples and azaleas. He lived on Orchard Street. When he bought the house in 1946 there was an orchard. Now there are only the trees in his yard and soon they will be gone too. He got up at 5:00 AM. Cooked his own breakfast. Shined his shoes – every day. He had the shiniest shoes at at the Atomic Energy Commission. He was a member of the Optimists. He was never late for a meeting, but he never ran for office. He was 92. I think my friend loved her father best. All the others left. My friend and I watched as they covered her father's casket with the protective shell. It didn’t fit properly. My friend said, “If Poppy were here, he would have that done in no time.” I hugged her and said, even though I didn’t believe it at the moment, “Your Poppy is here." We stayed by the graveside as they lowered him into the ground. We sprinkled his blossoms over the protective shell. We waited while they threw dirt on top of the blossoms. Then we left. We went to Starbucks. “Starbucks isn’t just coffee” my friend said. “It is comfort.” Then my friend dropped me off at the chapel so I could get my car. I went home alone. A few hours later I was sitting on my back deck enjoying my own blossoms and thinking about dying when Arlo started barking. I hadn’t heard my friend’s car, but Arlo had. He was happy to see her. She joined us on the deck. She didn’t have to explain why she had come. We sat there for a long time not talking much. Not needing to talk much.