so, it's tomorrow. how strange. it feels like it crept up on me, once again, even though i've been thinking about it for a couple of weeks. my family doesn't really mark it in any way. i'll call my mom, but i doubt we'll more than mention it. it's not something that makes for great phone conversations, obviously. i've never visited his grave on his anniversary. in fact i think i've only been there twice since he died, once because my mom felt like going and i was trapped in the car (uncomfortable) and once by myself, before that. i must have been a freshman or a sophomore, because i rode my bike from my house.

the cemetery is called Riverside, which always puts me in mind of the old amusement park. it's situated on the bank of the farmington river. it's very peaceful. if you follow the really narrow road all the way to the back, my dad's grave is located right where the road turns to the left to loop back. that plot was the last left in that section of the cemetery, and we wanted it not only because it's pretty, but also because only there can you have upright gravestones. i picked out the stone, of course i wanted a glossy black marble. there's only one other black stone in the entire cemetery.

i don't know what i was expecting when i went down there that day. i've seen and read so much about people going to their loved ones' graves, to commune with them or whatever, so i guess i was just following what i thought i should do. so i went. i took a perfectly smooth pebble home with me that had been lying there. i have a habit of saving rocks from places now (like the federal property i stole from all those national monuments out west lol). the sound of the river moving by is really wonderful, especially on a quiet summer day, but aside from that, there's nothing. i felt nothing. i just looked at the stone. Joseph Thomas DiMarzo, March 30, 1950---April 15, 2000. And the Masonic symbol, which we all felt should be there. I looked for a while, then i got back on my bike and left. when i got home all i remember writing in my journal (i kept one on actual paper back then, gasp!) was "He's not there", and he isn't. i don't know exactly where i think he is, but it's not under that rock, so i have no reason to visit it. Unless i'm doing like sara and her mom on their trips to puerto rico, making sure her dad's grave is clean.

how else can one possibly celebrate a day such as this? i doubt he would approve of any alcoholic toasts in his honor. hm, that's something to think about--how do we want our loved ones to remember the anniversary of our deaths? do we want solemnity, a mass perhaps, or do we want nostalgia and the examination of old photo albums? i have no pictures of him to pore over. he was usually the one taking the photos, and all the ones we did have of him went into the giant photo collage that hangs in the living room. i wish i'd looked at it again before i left home, even though i know every picture by heart.