By Makeba Dixon-Hill
The earliest memories I have of grief in nature were connected to my dad’s funeral.
I.
I was heading home from Chicago on an evening flight for the services. Turbulence so unsettling that I unzipped my Strong Suit and revealed my inner toddler. By this time the person sitting next to me and I were in an embrace. “Daddy, I love you, and I will miss you, but I do not want to go with you now.” Instantly it was smooth sailing met with a look of bewilderment from the stranger sitting next to me.
II.
While walking down the center aisle to see him in the casket, I readied myself for the two allotted goodbyes at a funeral. The first is viewing the body.
The Walk There felt like prolonging the inevitable. You must see that he is gone because that confirms that It is real. And then I saw. That what I saw wasn’t him. It was the shell. Not the shell that held my image of him in my heart because dementia reconfigured that years ago. The tears dried up, and I realized that he had to be somewhere else.
They say your second, and final, goodbye is the burial.
We released balloons tied to yellow strings. My eyes followed one that got caught in the oak tree closest to his headstone.
I would regularly visit the cemetery. Each visit would include looking up to find the yellow string. Still there. It was my compass. A guide to let me know that I was in the right place. Still there. My golden ticket of admittance. The evidence that proved we said goodbye for the last time.
One day my mother questioned why I went to the cemetery. I forgot the reason I gave, but I remember once suggesting it as the location for a date.
And soon I stopped going.
Then one day while walking the labyrinth at work, I thought of and cried for him. As I sat at the bench nearby, I looked up, noticing an oak tree, and saw a yellow string resting inside its branches.
Makeba Dixon-Hill is a writer, yoga instructor, and arts professional. Born and raised in Atlanta, she developed a love for the outdoors before she could walk or talk. She has her father to thank for that. You can read more about her work at makebadixonhill.com, and go find and follow her on Instagram.
Makeba, do you have any favorite quotes?
Whenever I'm listening to "Good Thoughts, Bad Thoughts," by Funkadelic, this stanza moves me every time.
Travel like a king Listen to the inner voice A higher wisdom is at work for you Conquering the stumbling blocks come easier When the conqueror is in tune with the infinite Every ending is a new beginning Life is an endless unfoldment Change your mind, and you change your relation to time...