I lost my mother in February of 2013. I was fortunate enough to be by her side when she drew her last breath. And I like to visit her grave on or about her birthday each year. I don’t really know why I chose that day. Good as any other, I suppose. She is buried in Rockville, MO so it does take some effort to get there.
From a spiritual point of view, I realize that I do not need to visit her grave to remember and laugh and, heck yes, just to talk. Yet once a year I go. It’s a need, really.
On the other hand, Emma is buried close. She is interred here in Olathe, KS and once again I found myself standing there last evening in the middle of a a cemetery talking to my daughter. Why do I visit her grave?
Losing my mother wasn’t easy. I still miss her. She gave me life. She instilled in me my work ethic. She took me to church. She showed me how to care for people even if they didn’t necessarily deserve it at that particular moment. No doubt, she is a huge reason I was on board for adoption when Marie brought it up.
Losing Emma was something altogether different. A child going first isn’t how we write our stories, or build our futures, or… Losing a child is like losing a piece of yourself. Is that why I visit her grave and talk to grass? Logically and spiritually I know anything I can say to her there I can say anywhere.
Emotionally, that seems to be another story.
Heck, earlier this month I treated myself to a convertible. The first thing I did was swing by her grave-site to show it to her. Does that make any sense to anyone? Why do I visit her grave?
To be closer I suppose.