I loved them... and they all died.

Fathers Day just passed. It was on Sunday, June 18th (yesterday) and instead of celebrating it like a normal person at home, I spent it at a graveyard. My grandma, my mother, my brother, my grandma's friend, and I all drove up to Glendale. It's a pretty big graveyard, but instead of being all creepy looking, it's a friendly place... to me any way. I've been to this graveyard many times before. I've been there to visit my dad's grave several times, say good bye to my Aunt Stell and recently been there to say good bye to my Grandfather.

When people visit graveyards they always have some creepy fear or something, but yesterday as we pulled into the gravesite, I was filled with bitter happiness. I was happy to be given another chance to visit people who have died and just to feel a little bit more grounded. My aunt Stell was everything to me (and even now as I reflect on our relationship tears are streaming down my cheeks). In elementary school, she'd be the one who picked me up. We'd go home and watch "Mama's Family" or something random on TBS. She'd make me a snack and it just felt like home. Sometimes my mom couldn't be there for me, but it was ok because Aunt Stell was there. She was kind to everyone and if you needed help you wouldn't even have to ask - she'd be there. And even though yesterday was Father's Day, I sat at her grave for a few minutes and reflected on everything that she meant to me. She truly was an amazing person.

After placing a few flowers in her vase and cleaning off the plaque with her name on it, I walked down a few rows and found myself at my father's grave. He was the reason I came for the car ride. So there I was, standing in front of his grave. All I could do was just stare at it. I had to stay strong... I just had to, I promised myself that I wouldn't cry. So I crouched down in and cleaned off his plaque. Then I put a few flowers in his vase. They were pink and blue, but I added one orange one. The orange one stood out and in my mind that's me. A little reminder that I still love him and that I haven't forgot about him... (ok I really need a kleenex box. lol.) Ok so once again, there I am at the grave. My grandma's friend is standing there and she's wiping her tears. Then she says "Wow. He died very young. It's been 14 years. I remember when my son was in school with him. He was ..." She continued on, but everything went silent. All I could feel were tears. Just then I had thought of my dad as an actual human being and not just "Gerald Albert Forde, Metropolitan Police Services" which the plaque stated. Just then I thought of him as a father and I slowly broke down. I couldn't listen to her anymore so I walked back to the car, grabbed a kleenex and just cried. After a few minutes, I wiped my tears and walked back to my family. We said our final good byes and walked back to the car. We all piled in and as we drove off, I looked back at my fathers grave and whispered "I'll forever be daddy's little girl".

And that was it. That was my sunday at the graveyard.
- Starlet.

In memory of Grandpa (the barbershop singer), Aunt Stell (my second mother), and my Daddy (the police officer) - I love you all.