Grave Realization ...

 

I went out to visit my grandfather's grave; he's been gone for almost a month now, and I wanted to tend to his gravesite.

 

As I spent the time cleaning up dried and ragged flowers and ribbons from the burial, I was conscious of the fact that my mother's grave is right next to his. The only difference now is that her daddy is next to her again. I know that would've meant a lot to her.

 

After I cleaned up his grave as best I could in slacks and a polo, I knelt down in front of momma. As soon as my hand touched her headstone, I began to cry. I don't know exactly why, other than knowing that I miss her immensely more than I ever thought I would. I talked to her about her grandkids; only one of which she had the opportunity to know. I told her how proud I am of them, and how proud she would be of them, too. I talked to her about my wife, and how my wife is the best thing to happen to me.

 

I thanked her for taking care of me for all those years, even though I didn't think it was worthwhile back then.

 

I guess the biggest realization I came across is that spending so much time with my grandfather before he died made it much easier for me when he passed away. I was at peace. I always thought death was like taking off a bandaide. I figured that ripping it off would hurt, but would be better in the long run. Now I understand that losing my mom so quickly, without letting her know how much she meant to me and how influential she's been in my life, has had a profound effect on my life. I still don't know that I'm okay with it. I feel comforted when I can pay homage to her through stories told to my kids. I talk to my family members about her.

 

It seems that in these instances, it's better to keep the wound open, rather than letting it scar over in an attempt to forget that it's there.