bathgate42pt2

Every time I go out there, I think I have everything that I need. And every time I go out there, I find something necessary that I hadn't thought of before. Today I learned that black molds grow on statues, so that next time I need to bring an anti-mold spray-thing with me. There's also some discoloration on the little angel statue and I don't know what it is, it's an orange-y thing that I don't know if it comes from simply being exposed to the elements and some chemical reaction takes place with the hard plastic or if its some weird organic thing.....but it doesn't seem organic cuz it won't wipe off at all, whereas the black mold-thing does rub off a little bit with some water and paper towels before refusing to come off any further.

It looks like they're expanding the cemetery, they're doing work on the grounds leading eastwards towards the little playground that abuts Our Lady Of Hungary. For a town with less than 10,000 people they're sure clearing a lot of land.

But they've gotten rid of that horrible gigantic dumpster that sits next to the entry drive. That's very good, it's a terrible thing to look at cuz when you go there to bring your loved one flowers you see this massive steel box holding all the refuse collected and tossed into it that had previously been over graves. I don't like thinking that the unplanted flowers Emma gets are going to ultimately be thrown into a dumpster; even though that's how such things go, I still don't like having to see it.

Sometime I'm going to have to drive through Northampton, find out what kind of little town it is. There is a slight view of things from the hill of the cemetery, but that's all. But it looks like a nice place. And facing Emma's spot there is a house with a family with kids residing there, and right east of the cemetery as I said there is a playground.

The grass has finally grown over the dirt. Liz had said that someone- wonderful Mormor?, I can't remember but that seems right (at least emotionally)- had laid some grass seed down. This, too, is good because Emma is right at the verge of the property facing the perimeter bushes, and it is an avenue that the cemetery custodians drive their carts through, which had hitherto made dreadful tracks over my baby. So now you can tell, looking west, that driven carts go that way, but plot-for-plot there is very little sign of it. One has very little choice in the matter, and must accept what is par for choice according to location.

I wonder, Why do people always put potted flowers right in front of the tombstone, instead of behind it where their loved on actually is?

7:10 pm, October 23 today. Emma should be turning seven in 34 1/2 days. Less, actually, but my stupid self can't remember when she was born- 5:something? It's terrible of me not to remember, it's been so long since I heard it said and so much has happened since, but that's no excuse at all. A father should have such things ingrained in his very marrow.

My boss at work, the GM, Pete, also parttime employs his brother Frank. Pete and Frank's mother has cancer. And Frank's wife has cancer. I want to talk to them, especially Frank, about these things, want to provide whatever support and whatever little know I that I possess that I am able, but am afraid that it's bad luck. I'm a superstitious person when it comes down to it, and worry that a father whose daughter died talking about cancer to a person whose loved one has cancer will bring about some sort of jinx. I don't know how to overcome this worry and make myself useful. When I was at Staples in 2007 my boss there Scott Fielder was extremely supporting and helpful to me; he had been through it himself, his son Zach died of cancer aged 5 a couple of years before. I truly believe that God put me in a place where I would have the benefit of Scott's wisdom and strength and courage. Yet I can't seem to Pay It Forward out of my damnable sense of superstition. All I've been able to do is be an ear, and to tell Frank that I've a few friends who are doctors and who can perhaps provide input into what they know of places like the Cleveland Clinic or St. Peters or whereever else.

I'm afraid, too, to talk to Pete and to Frank about cancer. I'm afraid that if I share my own experiences- everything of what little I learned about worrying and coping and overcoming terror and all those things- then I will bring some negative ju-ju and their loved ones will die: since my Emma died, if I share my experiences, then I will pass on that lethal experience in some metaphysical way- that's my worry. And so I do nothing, and fret that I should be doing something but have no idea what.

Meanwhile Frank yesterday talked about how his wife is on her third different anti-cancer regime, but then asserted that it's not yet time to panic. Good, God, I panicked just hearing that; and I worry that, even saying in this livejournal that I panicked upon hearing it, is itself a contagious thing that can have terrible consequences! (I know logically that this cannot be true, otherwise I wouldn't have written it.)

It's 7:25. Friday night. I don't know what else to write. I haven't had a bad day, really. It was "good", as such things are, going out and bringing my little girl flowers and cleaning up her little patch of land. And I'm going to soon eat dinner and watch 'State Of Play', and then go to bed and go to sleep and hopefully sleep the whole night through and then wake up in the morning and go to work and work the shift and then come home.....and just let the weekend do its thing, and try not to think about what Emma would have wanted to be for Halloween this year.