On visiting grave

Up at 6:30. Headache. Heavy one. Have to get up. Have to pay a visit to my father's grave today. Everyone in my family gets prepared and I am a driver. Too late to stop it now. Get out of the bed and change clothes. Go out of the house. Get in a car. Turn the ignition key. A short groaning sound. Nothing happens. The battery is dead. Ask my son to push the car. It moves slowly first. Gradually it picks up momentum as it rolls down the slope in front of my house. Change the gear lever from neutral to the second. Then meet the clutch. Here we go, the engine gets alive.
It is a strange feeling that a thing I thought dead suddenly gets up so vigorous.
Everytime I visit the grave of my father, I always wonder where he's gone. I hadn't talked with him a lot when he was alive but he was surely there with me for a certain length of time. Is he really gone? I'm not so sure any more. He is gone and he is here now. What I considered as he is gone and perhaps what he considered as himself is gone as well. But I can feel there is more to it than that. What is that? No answer yet. But it is not like the dead battery for sure.