Grass Seed
Dad always liked thick green grass.
When Mom and Dad bought their house in Rock Valley after my siblings and I had all moved out, Dad made sure to have an underground sprinkler put it. It was the only way to guarantee thick lush grass. I remember giving Dad a hard time about it one particularly dry summer. The town had put in a watering ban to conserve water but somehow dad's lawn was still think and lush. I remember mowing it one time when Dad was out of town and thinking the town must be pretty lax on enforcing the water ban. It was probably more like a suggestion.
I was at church when a young mother in my little sister's grade in school came up to me. She was wrangling her children toward the sanctuary. I could tell she had something important to say and that she was also hesitant to say it.
"Trent...Just so you know," she started. "You need to plant grass on your dad's grave. I saw your mom's had grass growing, so your dad must have done that, but I noticed that there wasn't any grass on his."
"Uh....OK, thanks for letting me know."
I had a lot of competing thoughts as I corralled my own family in to the pew and sat down. Is being responsible to plant the grass on your dad's grave a normal thing or a Doon cemetery anomaly? What was she doing out at the cemetery to notice the lack of grass on my father's grave. The answer to the second question came to me almost before I had finished thinking it. Her father had been killed in a construction accident when I was in high school. Her mom was still alive. I wonder which of them planted grass on her dad's grave.
I took today off to go to "Visit Day" at school in the morning and to watch my daughter play soccer later in the afternoon. Between the two events, I thought I would take care of a few errands. The previous owners of the house we recently moved into had poured concrete for a new sidewalk and steps to the front entrance. While the ground was level, you could still see the bare dirt scars in the yard from the equipment. I drove to Rock Valley to get some water softener salt and some grass seed for the house. I found a bag that said it was for heavily shaded areas. I knew that was what the house needed. I'm not sure how it will do in the full sun of the graveyard.
It's been a year and half since the funeral. When I pulled in to the cemetery I could see the brown scar in the ground in front of Dad's head stone. The dirt wasn't fresh and a few greenish weeds had managed to intrude past the edges. The wound on the ground seemed like a deep scrape that was trying to heal but still had a way to go by the look of the scab.
I left the vehicle running as I cut corner on the bag of grass seed. I was hoping the wind wouldn't blow the seed away before the rain would come. I sifted a few handfuls out on the ground and hoped for the best. I put a handful on a few bare spot's on mom's before I left.
As I drove to the soccer game my mind kept rubbing that invisible scab. Picking at the edges. Seeing if the wound was healed or still there yet.