Ghosts

I opened the car door. I felt the seconds hang in the air. My father died a few months ago. Today I visit the house where he and my mother lived, preparing for its sale tomorrow morning. I came to attend to business matters but more importantly I came to visit ghosts.

Without recalling moments I could feel my father everywhere. Imaginary
glimpses of him came to me from every angle. He was mowing the lawn, picking up something from the bushes, throwing wood down the chute for the woodstove; an endless slideshow of memories. I hesitated. Should I look for something he might have dropped? A chance at grasping a piece of time I didn’t know existed. My muscles relaxed in resignation. He was not here anymore. No matter what I might find it would not bring him back.

I slowly walked to the backyard. My actions were deliberate, yet avoiding what I knew I came to do. I straightened the bird bath, looked in the shed and under the deck, picked up a birdhouse that had fallen down and settled it in the nook of a tree. Flowers were beginning their assent to life, to be beautiful. The rose bushes have buds on them, my mothers’ favorite.

There are many trees in the yard, quite a few clustered among a rock garden. One simple oak tree has a long faded ribbon tied around its center.

My father tied this ribbon around this small tree in hopes that I would
return. I left my family over 3 years ago to live in the United States.
Word came to them less than a year ago that I would return. In anticipation of that, this tree was adorned to celebrate my return. I knew my father missed me. I remember that silly song when I was 11 years old “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree” … the first song I actually liked and sang to when no one was near.

I gracefully untied the loose knot that claimed this ribbon to its place of
love and tucked it in my purse. I wasn’t sure if I was going to take it
down today but it has no reason in the lives of the people that will live
here. It has no memory or source of love for them.

It does for me.