Snapshots

Little landmines have not only served as occasions for deep sadness for me. Sometimes -- more and more often, in fact -- they bring a funny memory with them, or a reason to celebrate that Mama's life so informs my own that there are days when her presence is just all around me. They serve not so much as shocks to the systems as nudges from deep in my heart where the goodest stuff dwells, from which I am prompted to remember.

Two recent cases in point. 

On December 17, 2011 I said to my brother, as if in automatic mode, "Today is Grandmama's birthday."  You should understand here that the Keeper of All Family Dates On Her Tongue was our Mama. If you ran across her on one of these days, you'd get your reminder. Anyway, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, my brother responded over his shoulder, "I wondered who would be in charge of reminding us of these things every year."  

It was a good little landmine. It spoke of continuity, and family jokes that will live on  long after all of those of us who know the whole story are gone.

And then this: today was my first time back to the 20th Century Club meeting after my rather spectacular loss of form in November there. We met, as we do nearly every month, at the Blue Willow (which we refer to as "Our Clubhouse"). I'm happy to report that while there was a good crowd today, and I arrived a little late, that the little table at the back of the room where Mama and I always sat with the Moody Women had a couple spaces open.  Mrs. Moody and her daughter and daughter-in-law were there together, and there was another old friend, and that left one empty place after I sat down -- not in my usual chair, though. I never even thought about it -- the table conversation was great, and at one point Mrs. Moody's daughter moved the vase of roses so we could see each other across the table.

I took a picture of the roses on my iPhone to upload to The Path, a social media site I enjoy because it serves as a photojournal for me.  I "checked in" on The Path with this, and it was only later that I fully realized that of all the beautiful settings in that place I could have photographed today, I chose to snap the least remarkable view in the place -- which was right in front of Mama's usual chair. I didn't tear up when I saw this and realized it. I smiled.

Her empty chair held a little bit of understated beauty today -- just like it did when she sat there. 

So I remembered, and I smiled. 

The Unmarked Grave

In the late 1960's my parents bought the two plots at Greenwood Cemetery next to Mama's mother and father, and they also went on and ordered a monument for themselves, which has stood on those plots ever since, awaiting the time when a death date inscription would need to be added. Like many other couples, it's one monument with both their names, of course.

The company who handles this removed the monument shortly after Mama's burial for inscription, but we learned this week that there had been an error made that could not be fixed -- they inscribed the date of death on Daddy's side. The monument company is going to make this right: they acted honorably, and aside from the fact that we would rather it not have happened, we can't and won't complain about how they handled the situation.

We all heard this news and were pretty philosophical about it, but still.... it became the latest little landmine for me.

I have not returned to the cemetery since Mama was buried there. Some families are Visitors to Cemeteries, but that hasn't been part of our tradition so I just had in my mind that when the monument was back in place it would feel like things had been put to paid and I'd feel right being there for a visit.

So now we have this delay, which may well be 3 months or more, and I just got emotionally blindsided hearing this. I couldn't really sort out why until I talked it out with a good friend. She is so wise, and here's what she said in response to my saying that I wasn't sure why I was so upset, given that it is "just a hunk of stone."

"No, it's not just a hunk of stone. It's the hunk of stone your Mom and Dad purchased over 45 years ago and planned for you to come visit after they were gone. It's a huge deal."


Here's the thing about friends, and pouring out your heart, and listening when they respond with grace and wisdom:  As soon as she put into words what I was having trouble articulating and thereby honored my sadness, it was largely dispelled.

This is why it is so important, I think, to share the hard things, and it helps if you have wise friends.

My sister and I have marked our calendars for April. It will be pretty there in the spring.

"Do not protect yourself from grief by a fence, but rather by your friends."-- Czech Proverb