TheBanyanTree: Back to the Cemetery

[Margaret R. Kramer]

It was time to remove the 4th of July flower arrangements from my parents’
graves and replace them with some cheery summer blooms.  Popcorn clouds were
floating overhead and it was almost cool for August 2, but it was a good day
to head out to the cemetery.

Now that I know where they’re buried, it was easy to spot the graves.  They’
re at the back of the cemetery and at the far end of their row away from the
road.  We parked the car and walked over.

The red, white, and blue flowers were still there, a little weather beaten,
but basically in good shape.  I pulled them out of the vases and dumped out
the excess water and replaced them with flowers that were various shades of
pink.  (This cemetery requires all flowers are artificial).  I removed the
4th of July wind chimes from the little tree and I added new ones – a
birdhouse one and a little bamboo one.

This time we didn’t sit by the graves and talk.

It’s been very dry here and Ray found a hose and began watering graves with
brown grass and fresh graves where they had planted grass seed.  He watered
pots of “real” flowers.  Yes, people manage to sneak in those “real”
flowers.

I wandered around and visited my parents’ and my grandmother’s “neighbors.”
I found the grave of my parents’ friend who died in 1981.  He worked for the
electricity company and was electrocuted while fixing a downed power line.
He had a double stone with his wife and she must still be alive, as there
was no death date for her.  There were flowers in his vase.  Someone is
visiting him.

I found a man who must have liked to fish, because all the things in his
tree where related to fishing; fish wind chimes, wood fish cut-outs, and
funny fish quotes.  It must have been his birthday recently, as there were
bright balloons with “Happy Birthday” on them tied in his tree.

I saw a double stone with the couple’s names on it, but no death dates.
They were about my age and obviously purchased the plot when their baby
daughter died a few years ago.  Yes, the baby’s stone had dates on it.  She
lived five days.

There were graves with banners tied to the flower arrangements that said,
“Mother” and “Father” and “Beloved Grandfather.”

I picked up some flowers that had fallen out of vases and put them back in.
I untangled some wind chimes.  I watched a couple who were sitting in lawn
chairs a few hundred yards away from us, obviously having a long visit with
their loved one.

Ray and I crossed the road and found a little girl’s grave.  She died in
1999 and was three years old.  Her tree was decorated with little things;
dolls, stars, angels, and other toys.  There were several flower
arrangements on her stone.  Someone misses that little girl very much.

We saw another fisherman’s grave.  There was a rod with a huge lure in his
vase.  He must not have been fond of flowers.

We walked back to the car.  We were both quiet.  Our silence wasn’t sad,
just reflective.

When we got to the cemetery, I asked Ray about his mother’s grave, way up in
northern Wisconsin.  He really doesn’t have a reason to visit her there, as
no family of his lives in that area, and her land and house were sold after
her death.  So I thought about that.  A bare grave.  My parents’ graves will
be bare, too, once I’m gone.  I think I’m the only one in the family who
lives close enough to visit and I never visited before until my dad died
this year.

I also felt good.  It’s the kind of good feeling I have when I see an old
friend and talk about the good times of the past.  Stopping by the cemetery
is like tying some loose ends together.  It’s different than just thinking
about my parents and my grandmother.  Going to a place and doing something
to acknowledge their past existence, like placing flowers on their graves,
gives those thoughts about them a little extra meaning in some way.  It’s
hard to explain.

When the air gets a little chillier and the leaves begin to turn yellow and
orange, we’ll go out there again, and I’ll give them some autumn
decorations, visit a little bit, and check on the neighbors.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at earthlink.net

http://www.polarispublications.com
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