I know what you mean, baby.I hope it is a few years before my daughter really gets our symbolic pyre to the Captain America. It was fitting how our first cremation, among the scattered graves of the found and sometimes adopted animals, was a draped pile of our good captain mementos.
She was Lady Liberty until age six; when my English ex-wife tore that shroud from my secrete identity. Before then she had to consider things like, "it's better to die for something than stand for nothing" and other silly things a man in tights says about living in our modern age.
Years before we'd lost her precious "Twinkel-Berry" at one of my sisters' weddings; rumor has it that someone more lonely is now tending to her needs, but sad and mean thoughts still linger over this unjust loss. And tears with flowers and special tokens like rocks were not uncommon as we buried our dead; and so she was only being reflective of our losses in life.
I can't say my ex showed her when the captain died; I've felt him dieing for years, and not just because of Little Jackie Paper. And so one cold sunday morning we put the good captian to rest with a little fire and some kind words. Having suffered great pain in life, I'm jaded on mourning little losses, but her reminding me of her greatest loss of all, made me thankful for her honest innocence and how this says everything about living in America.
I know how much she misses that stupid stuffed animal and so in true captain form I told her how I hoped I always missed him like we'd miss anyone real who gave people hope, inspired great things, loved all life, and fought for something he believed. A boy can dream can't he?
