|A shrine to my dad in my sister's hotel room|
|Al fresco gathering spot at the National Memorial Cemetery|
Weird to re-emerge from the bubble of huddling with my family planning my dad's funeral in the land of Lara. The air smelled like citrus blossoms. I am in love with saguaro cacti. I would leave my husband if a saguaro proposed.
I hope no one minds if I post about this a little each day.
My dad, a Korean War vet, is buried in Arizona's National Memorial Cemetery. Under the awning (pictured in the bottom photos), an honor guard, who was dressed like a park ranger, presented my mother with a neatly triangled American flag in a formal and surreal little ceremony. He even saluted her and looked unblinkingly into her eyes.
My dad's casket is covered with unpretentious daisies.
To the left, the government had provided a cooler full of water and a dispenser with paper cone cups. The toddler among us used about 34 of them. The family lingered for awhile after the flag ceremony. Then we caravaned back to Mesa to eat together near a restaurant's back wall at a long, long table. The salsa was hot; the chips blue and salty. My dad would have loved it and the day we planned for him. More about this tomorow.