I'm not sure how I fell into this role of cemetery caretaker, but nevertheless, here I am, on a blustery January evening, trying to get everything in place, before the sun sets and I have to boogie out the front gate to get out in time.
For some time now, years actually, I've been responsible for putting out flowers at our family's burial plot. Today, it was time to change out the winter flowers to something with a Valentine's theme.
Today was also the first time I saw my uncle's new headstone. I stared at it for the longest time, my eyes crinkly with tears. I miss him so much. I couldn't help but feel that his stone was not quite right, it didn't capture all he meant to this world, but then again, how would you ever fit all of what you what to say, all you want to remember, on a marble tablet? So, you drop to the ground, ignoring the red clay, and then...
Then you pause to look up at the flock of geese honking by. His favorite bird. The ones he would stand and watch out his front door, with what seemed like an almost curious reverence, as they flew overhead, over the fields, over us all.
Be well.
