I vaguely remember flowers

I pinched my penis in the woods yesterday, by accident, climbing through a wooden fence to look at a grave.
The fence was made of horizontal slats attached to wooden fence posts. Normally there would have been plenty of space for me to squeeze through, but I was wearing a pack that made it a tighter fit.
I groaned, and my wife asked what the matter was, and I told her.
My pack held a few apples, a thermos full of cold water, and a rain jacket I bought last summer (2019) at REI.
I started out with three apples, then ate one, then fed another to some goats.
The grave stone seemed to be granite. There was a bronze (?) plaque on it with five names, two with one surname, the other three with another. There was a space in front of it the size of a couple shoeboxes, covered with a flat rectangle of metal or stone (I forget), so I assumed they were putting urns in there and not whole bodies.
There was a bench beside the stone where you could sit and look into the distance.
I vaguely remember flowers.

Now what?

Mr. Cordyceps is all WTF?

In other words, I suppose, he is at a loss. It’s like, when he was 40 he was all, oh no, I’m getting old and so on, but he got over it and life went on. And then people close to him died and he got sad about that and unbeknownst to him sadness, or grief, became what sustained him.

He was a big drag to be around, to those who loved him.

He just sat around and moped and had no friends and was comfy behind this shell of grief.

Then a friend gave him an old accordeon and he played it and you know what? He realized he was out of grief.

He wasn’t sad anymore. He was still old, and tired, and overwhelmed by reality and bitter that no one had implemented his utopian visions, but he wasn’t sad.

He walked down the street thinking, gee the light is beautiful today.

He took a music lesson thinking, this is going very well, I’m glad I didn’t quit.

Reality continued to teach him lesson after lesson, but at least his ears were open now, and eyes.

He got on the bathroom scales and saw he’d lost a kilo. Then he noticed it was set to -1 instead of 0. Well, at least I didn’t gain a kilo, he thought.

He had a strong feeling that his life was over. And yet it continued. So maybe it wasn’t over.

Careers in Science: Noetical Hydrology

Does the tear absorb the ocean or does the ocean absorb the tear? This question is the domain of the noetical hydrologist. Taking a walk along the creek with his younger daughter, the noetical hydrologist finds himself discussing death and grief with her. “I watched you when grandpa died,” she says. “I read in a magazine how long it takes to get over the deaths of various people – friend, parent, spouse, grandparent, and we were both right on the money. I needed about four months. Eight months for you, I think. You always used to be funny. Then you were so sad. Then, afterwards, you were funny again, just not quite as funny as before.”

The noetical hydrologist’s daughter says this to him. The sun has set and the sky is glowing above the cornfield while clouds gather for a rainy night. The noetical hydrologist wonders, is she wise beyond her years or am I just dull? Neither, he decides. She’s the way she belongs, as is he.

Does the tear absorb the ocean or does the ocean absorb the tear?