The Dirt Nap
The Dirt Nap, March 13th, 2022
My Grandma Edna Engleheart would talk about the dirt nap. She was in no hurry to take it. Gr. Edna liked playing the card game 500. It’s a simpler version of Bridge. A fun game we used to play together in the cabin on the lake during the cold rainy summers of northern Minnesota. Some vacation it was.
Grandma Edna died at 89 or so in a Masonic Nursing home outside of Minneapolis where she grew up and lived.
Grandma Edna liked to visit my parents ( my Mom was her daughter ), in Savannah, Georgia on Skidaway Island. Gr. Edna would stay for weeks. Dad used to tell me, “I need to put in a pay toilet and a cash bar.” Gr. Edna liked her vodka tonics.
“Do you want another drink, Edna?” My Dad would ask. “Does a sailor stand on one leg?” Edna would answer.
And now both my Grandma Edna and my Dad are taking that long dirt nap. So are my wife’s parents and our cat. I buried the cat in the dirt in our garden. Good old Buddy the Wonder Cat.
All of them are taking their long dirt naps.
Most of my good friends are taking their dirt naps, too. Mark, Patrick, and Nick. They all died at 49. Well, they smoked cigarettes which hurries the napping time I suppose.
My first wife died of cancer five years ago this month. All of them under the dirt sleeping away. Or their ashes were thrown into the sea. Really the same nap underwater I reckon.
I wake up every day and bless the experience. The sun shines brightly. The flowers bloom and the bees and hummingbirds fly about.
I work in the dirt of our garden, but am in no hurry to go underneath it.
The dirt nap comes soon enough for us all. TJM