And a delightful time was had by all. Such a strange line, considering yesterday could’ve turned into a tearful and solemn occasion. The hunt was on for a tiny plot of Virginia City (VC) real estate on which to memorialize VST. Never having lost a husband before, I didn’t quite know what to expect. I did know that VST’s favorite Masonic Brother would never let things get too complicated or overwhelming. Brothers from his lodge made a solemn oath to me just a year ago at the Memorial. They would ALWAYS be there to help in time of need. Today was a perfect example of Masonry at its finest.
With an 8:30 AM meeting planned in VC, my morning started earlier than normal. Oliver begged for a few days off with his buddies, and how could I deny such a good puppy? These days, Oliver is coming into his own time of life. He enjoys napping as much as I do. We have a lovely routine of after lunch naps, both curled up in our respective sleeping quarters. He loves patrolling the grounds, keeping Winterpast free of fallen apricots or toads. He cares not in what order they appear. Either are fair game. He is starting to ignore plastic emitters and lighting.
Oliver knows how to sit and wait for a treat now. Just like that, he learned and is proud. He knows that when on a leash, he needs to walk slowly if Mom-Oh has a coffee cup in hand. A hundred other little details Oliver has finally slowed down enough to learn. With that, I’m beginning to enjoy my little dog, like never before. Maybe I’m learning better behavior, as well. That being said, this week is filled with details time consuming and emotionally charged. A party at the kennel was just what we both needed, so, off we went.
Once he was safely in the hands of his loyal minions, serving his every need, I headed up the mountain to Virginia City. Taking a route I try to avoid, memories attacked from every angle. This was the route to and from Lowe’s. To our favorite dining places. To Lake Tahoe. To the coast. How many times we had driven this road, both in the light of day and on the darkest of nights? We’d taken the road when happy or angry, excited or exhausted. Winding up the steep grade, there was only one difference. When VST was alive, I was always in the passenger seat.
Going up the hill, one thing was certain. The terrain reflected the ugliness of late August, not mid-July. The drought’s stolen every bit of moisture away, leaving the hills brittle-burnt-brown. Autumn is a 1.5 months away, with daily afternoon thunder storms spitting out bolts of lightning along the way. A sad time for the wild mustangs which will surely be on the hunt for water.
Familiar memories swirled in my head as the road twisted and turned towards the Canvas Café. There, VST’s Masonic brother would be waiting. A good friend to us both, he was the liaison between the Virginia City Cemetery and me. A welcome visitor to our home on many occasions, he’s a true friend. Easy to confide in and always at the ready with sage advice. I looked forward to his company on this difficult task.
When I arrived, another gentleman joined us, representing the VC Cemetery. A gentleman whose kindness and soft spoken responses made our breakfast table a safe one. Visiting over coffee was a time to catch up after many months. It was as if a day hadn’t passed since we had last talked. Just the way of VC. Wild, ragged places seem to make people appreciate their friendships more. You never know when a wayward wind or snow storm might create a need for neighborly support. Mountain people remember what it is to be friendly and respectful. Masonic Brothers even more so.
After breakfast, we rode to the cemetery to choose the spot for VST’s headstone. Being in the company of those that ARE “The Rules” helped. With the day beginning to boil on high, we took our car through the cemetery to the top of the hill where other Masonic brethren lie. Plots are not laid out in endlessly neat and tidy rows. Rather scattered in wild fashion like the rest of the place. Bedrock makes digging in some spots impossible. VST’s headstone would need no digging. Just a respectable place to settle in and stay awhile.
After a short time, I found the spot as if it had been waiting for an eternity to hold VST’s memory. With a view of the DunMovin House (our last home together), our beautiful A Street neighborhood, besties D and B’s home, and Masonic Brother J’s house, all nestled under the “V” on the side of Mt. Davidson. The entire town was there to see right from THE chosen spot. There was no need to look further.
I’d visited that part of the cemetery often in the company of VST, long before there were any thoughts other than living a very long and healthy life. Mr. Barrow’s grave was right across the path, with Mrs. Barrow being my elderly neighbor who grew the most beautiful spring poppies in her flowerbeds. This spot was surrounded by Masonic Brothers I knew as VST’s good friends. His next door neighbor would someday be Masonic Brother J with a beautiful headstone saving his spot. Dean and Jan were right across the path, also ready with their pre-planning.
As I stood looking towards the peak of Mt. Davidson, I knew I’d found the very spot VST would’ve chosen. A settled peace filled my soul as I realized I’d held my breath a bit until I’d found it. This would be his spot for all to visit and remember. This manly man of men. My sweet husband would be remembered here forever more.
Today, the quest continues for a proper headstone. Drawn out, I know exactly what it will say and how it will look. With the proper craftsman, VST’s memory will live on, now part of a rich history of this, the wild, wild West. This, his beloved Virginia City, Nevada.