The Cemetery

Many of you probably don't know about the runaround that my mom and I have been given at the cemetery.  They purchased their mausoleum plots many years back, and all of the things involved with internment were paid for.  That includes the grave marker.  My mom and I had to go to the cemetery office 2 days after my Dad's funeral to design the marker.  It was really painful, and the last place we wanted to be, both physically and emotionally.  But we did it.  The creepy guy in charge of working with us was, well.....creepy.  And not in a "I work at a cemetery and only wear black suits" kind of creepy.  In a "I like to play with the bodies when no one is looking" kind of creepy.  I don't know of any other way to describe it!   


Anyway, fast forward at least 2 months.  We still hadn't heard from him regarding when the marker would be placed.  I had been to the cemetery to check a couple of times.  It was hideously painful.  Not only was the wound on my heart very fresh, but to see him buried in an unmarked grave was just gut wrenching.  I burst into tears every time I went.  I had finally had enough.  I wrote a letter, describing the experience we had had with the creepy dude and emailed it to their office. The manager called me the following day and I put him in contact with my mom.  A new guy (much less creepy) was assigned to us and the marker was designed, proofs sent to my mom for approval, ordered, and installed.  And here it is.  

I think it's perfect.  Dad would be so proud.  The only thing missing was flowers.  I took care of that this Sunday while my girls and their Daddy napped.  

What do you think?  I was going for "Fall, pretty, yet masculine."


Do you know what?  In the few times that I've been back since it was installed, I feel such a sense of peace.  It's no longer a painful place that I dread going to.  It's a place where I can talk to my Dad, be alone, and feel a little bit of closeness.  It's amazing the difference that a grave marker and some flowers can do.