It looks so cozy, a warm earth-bound bed with my name on it. Oh, but wait a second, that's not me, I can tell by the dates, and by the name of my grave-mate Anna Irene. This past weekend David, Nan and I made the 2 1/2 hour trek along the 401 and QEW, to a land of peaches, grapes, and cheesy amusements to watch David and several hundred other crazy marathon runners cross the finish line in the annual Niagara Falls International Marathon.
On Sunday mom and I took in mass at St. Pat's R.C. church downtown, where grandma used to take us as young children. When I first walked in, nothing felt familiar, but after an hour or so, memories started to creep out of the recesses of my mind; I think grandma sat on the left hand side of the aisle, and I'm pretty sure the church has been updated in the past 25 years. Other than that, a few streets looked familiar, and I think we found grandma's last apartment on Simcoe St., along with a playground where she used to drop my sister Anne and I off while she ran her errands. I'd love to go back with my mom and dad, a camera and some notepaper to preserve a little more history before time steals it away. Getting back to the cemetery for a second; I had a bit of a revelation while searching for the graves of my grandparents; our bodies are like cars - they function a lot better when they are maintained and when they have a good driver, but when the car ultimately breaks down and the driver moves on, both are still real, just separate. David's body proved once again that training pays off - congratulations on your second successful marathon, and on your ongoing recovery from your skiing accident. But remember, ski season is just around the corner!