small amounts of perspective

Today I helped my mother and aunt replace the winter flowers with spring flowers on our loved ones grave sites. It is a ritual that I've taken part in since I was a wee little girl.

I would venture with my grandmother as she would cut grass around the headstones, replace the flowers, and wipe down the stones if they were rather dirty.

She was one of the only people who cared enough to venture to the family cemetery to care for those long gone. It wasn't a place one could easily visit...if you didn't own a truck you were pretty much out of luck.

Since it was difficult to get to this area my grandmother decided she wouldn't be buried on the "homeplace" but rather would be buried in the Elgood cemetery. "The grave site will be better cared for," she would inform us. I suppose she was driving home the fact that she felt that caring for the stones and sites was of great importance to her.

This job has been overtaken by my mother who I must say does a great job. She takes great care in replacing the flowers with ones that are seasonally appropriate and caring for the overall appearance of the graves. This task while meaningful is full of emotion, it is a reminder that those we love are no longer with us.

Being that I am now a WV resident (oh Lord, did I just type that???) the caring of grave sites has re-entered my life.

I must admit I did not wish to go, didn't feel the need to make the drive, didn't want to face the graves. "That's why I'm being cremated," I protested to no one in particular.

I suppose the main reason I didn't wish to return was because I didn't want to face the fact that life goes on without those we have lost. I didn't want to face telling my daughters that this is where my great grand-grandparents were buried, or that my grandmother and grandfather are buried. I didn't want to explain that yes my grandparents were Nana's mom and dad. I didn't want to face the fact that my children will never know them.

However, I went...I faced the reality. I answered the hundred questions the girls asked. I tried to keep emotion out of it. I tried to be purposeful in my movements and thoughts. Then, my son wanting to explore used my grandparents headstone to stand...smiled largely and laid his head upon the stone. I fought back tears and tried to soak up the sweetness of the moment, fighting the sadness I began to feel.

My son later attempted to sharpen his teeth upon my great grandparents stone while his sisters continued to pelt me with never ending questions about death, dying, and cemeteries. It was a mixture of humor, sadness, and purpose.

It was a reminder that I have indeed "come home" even if my heart still sings to the ocean. It was a reminder of the wonderful memories I have of my childhood...memories full of family, fresh cut grass, laughter, and the thought that it is within the small moments that we find ourselves.

Welcome home Tiffany...welcome home.