If you're happy and you know it, skip this post.

Okay, this one is a downer. That being said, if you're happy and you know it, skip this post.  I went to Memorial Gardens today to visit my mother's gravesite. It was a splendid day, a light breeze was blowing, and songbirds were singing in every tree. The grounds were beautiful, and there were several families there to visit their loved ones. Many, many graves had small American flags blowing gently in the breeze over them. As soon as I got to my  mother's grave, I plopped down next to her (on her left side - my side) and burst into tears. I wish they had been tears of grief or sadness for her loss or gratitude for her peace, but they were tears of shame and recrimination and helplessness for feeling that I had failed her so badly in her last weeks and that I have since made such a cock up of the life she worked so hard to help me make. I have no doubt she is not a peace - she is one seriously pissed off mama. She was not one to forget or forgive, so unlike a good Catholic who can visit the priest for the Sacrament of Confession, I left my confessions at the grave, but departed with only a sense of unending penances. No absolution. Maybe some of you wonder why I articulate something this personal in a public forum. The reason is that there is no difference between thinking it or writing it down in a journal or a blog if there is no one to read or hear it. Sometimes nothing will do but to indulge in Whitman's "barbaric yawp" just to confirm that I am still here. "Hello? Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?" Damn you for giving it a name, angst, Søren Kierkegaard. I couldn't go to Greenfield or Trezevant to visit the rest of my family because I'm afraid to take a trip with the giant crack in my windshield. I think I will feel better when I go, though, because they were more likely to seek solutions than find fault. Maybe I'll gain some insight from them. Here's hoping I have an epiphany - preferably not one that blinds me while I'm on the road.