I will show you a dress:
As I sat at my parents' kitchen table with my dad after dinner, I gazed out the window at the yard. You go down the steps from the screened porch and there's a little bricked area before the grass where they have the grill. I remember our neighbor's cat, Baxter always came running when my dad was grilling, and yes; my dad always shared.
This brought me to the memory of that little toe-headed boy in denim overalls, the look only a small child can pull off. We were sitting out on the porch steps one late afternoon. He called the cat, "Baster" (sounded like "bastard") and smiled with delight as he pet the fluffy gray kitty. He said when he grew up he wanted to have two cats, as he held up two fingers. "One Baster and one Tabby." The latter was our family's pet.
"How long will this sadness last?" I asked my dad.
He paused a moment and said, "forever" before taking a breath and adding, "it's still so hard to believe..."
Dark. This was Sunday, the day after we finally held the memorial service for our dearly departed Jesse.
It wasn't totally planned, but I was grateful for the opportunity to share my eulogy. It was really important to me. When it comes to writing, some peeps say I is pretty good and by then I had been "writing" what I wanted to say for weeks in my head. I loved this boy and I wanted to share with everyone, the reasons why he meant so much to me and to so many others.
I approached the church podium thing (pulpit?) with a handful of tissues and absolutely zero fucks about how a room of people were looking at me while I looked absolutely awful. With bloodshot eyes and a tear streaked face, I just started talking.
And I talked a lot. My uncle Jeff had spoken first and he related a story about how Jesse played with all the neighborhood kids and once grabbed a smaller kid from his scooter before that kid rode in front of an oncoming car. I went with the savior theme and said "If it wasn't for Jesse, I don't know where I would be today..." before telling everyone how I came to find my path as a teacher thanks to him.
Afterwards, everyone said I nailed it, but I want to make it clear that I did it for Jesse and not for the pats on the back. We lost an incredible person and I wanted to pay a tribute that would make him proud.
Here I will leave a picture that I share in a story last spring as the theme of forsythias serve to tell my stories metaphorically. They are bright, beautiful yellow flowers that grow on bushes in the spring. Some jerks trim them into little boxes but that's dumb because they are supposed to grow free. Because they only grow for such a short time. It's like, you look at them and admire these burning bushes and then you turn around and their gone.
So, first thing I did was try and sew down all the extraneous fabric around the awesome bustline.
I obviously had to take in the sides, because it was muu muu like. I shortened the sleeves. Also, I hemmed it, but just a little. So the obvious sash belt was kinda skinny.
The pictures were taken with my camera on a tripod after I'd worn the dress all day. What I'm saying is: the pics tell a different story than my mirror did. That's why I'm sharing one or two at the most. These pics bad, I looked decent.
|It's the sash. I tied it weird or something.|