Balloons and flowers

I used to go to the cemetary alot. Pretty much every third day, on my way home. I'd stop by and pull weeds, sometimes plant flowers or just bring some cut flowers with me to place by the headstones. I wouldn't really stay long, maybe five minutes or so, and in the winter I'd leave my truck running so it would stay warm. But I was there quite often. I didn't usually have much to say, certainly nothing important, but sometimes I'd feel the need to get something off my chest and that seemed like as good a place as any to talk to my wife. I'd tell her how the grandkids were, how big they were getting, how cute they were and how bad I felt that she couldn't be there to spoil them. She REALLY loved being Nana. At first, when the nine year-old was little, she got a kick out of people thinking he was hers. But then, when she saw their reaction after telling them he was her grandson, she was ALL over the whole Nana thing. She dug being such a young looking grandma. And she spoiled that little guy.

I remember our first trip down south to see grandson number two. Fourteen hours, over-night, non-stop. I did most of the driving. She was a good driver, but didn't really care much for driving through the cities, so... I did most of the driving. And when we finally got there, she just beamed. He was all of one week old that first trip. We put everything on hold to make that mad dash down to see him and his new Mommy and Daddy. He was so tiny, so cute and she was just head over heals in love from the first second she saw him. We all were. We could only stay a few days, but she made the most of it, holding him, feeding him, changing his little diapers. We went back for another visit when he was a month old and it was more of the same. I know we would have worn a groove into the Interstate with all the trips down there, had she had the chance.

Instead, I'd go to see her, on my way home, to tell her the latest family news. The things we should have discussed over coffee like normal people do. And it's funny, but I always found it comforting to stop there. I know they're not there, at the cemetary, that it's just the physical remains. I get that. But still, something inside me told me, allowed me to believe, that there was a closeness that I couldn't get anywhere else. And I know some people can't go to cemetaries. Just can't. For whatever reason.

But reason doesn't matter, either for or against. If it feels like the right thing to do, makes you feel better, makes you FEEL something besides empty, to me, it's worth it.

I found a saying on a website I used to frequent. I can't remember who wrote it, so I can't give proper credit, but when I read it, I connected with it immediately and decided to have it inscribed on the back of my wife's headstone. It says-
"Know the gift you have been given and realize, the gift has not been taken from you, only the wrapper. For the gift you have once been given will always be yours."

And I truly believe that.

And I still go to the cemetary, but not very often. Special days, certainly, like birthdays or death dates or our anniversary. And I still say the same thing when I leave...

"take good care of your Mom for me and I'll take good care of your sister for you."
and
"I love you and I miss you. I'll see you soon, but not soon enough,"