We are not "go to the cemetery" people. Please know that I mean no disrespect to those who visit the graves of their loved ones often. Distance has a lot to do with it. There are hours between us and Parklawn. And there's always been this deep place where I know that Mama and Daddy will not be found at the graveside. But we were close by this week and made plans to stop there on the way out of town.
So we found ourselves winding our way out Peters Creek Parkway early this morning. I remembered eating supper at "the" Mayflower Seafood and learning the wonder of popcorn shrimp. A vague memory of some store we used to visit in that part of town. And the peaceful entrance to the rolling-hilled cemetery. There was no one in the caretaker's house this early on a Saturday and we had no map to help naviagate. But I remembered that we went up a little hill and curved around to the right. And I knew that they were somewhere near the praying hands. We parked on the narrow drive and I recalled walking away after Daddy's funeral. There was a tree that seemed familiar. And wouldn't you know it... hubby started walking straight into the plot and the next thing I know, he calls out, "Chandler!" Walked straight to it.
I didn't expect it to be so emotional - the aforementioned understanding of where they now reside - but I was overcome. Maybe with the barrenness of the spot. Just a flat piece of granite with names and dates. Not even an urn of flowers. I thought for a moment how sad that this is what is left of them in this realm. There is still a profound sense of loss after decades. And then, it came flooding back to me - all they did that not only affected me but so many others. All that is left for us carrying-on-ers. I did some math and thought about my life expectancy - I figure I have about 15-20 years God willing - and I thought about all they accomplished in the last 15-20 years of their lives. Seems I have a lot of living and doing left. And I think I needed that perspective, that challenge. I don't think they wound down so much as they wound out - played it to the end the way they'd always done.
We prayed and dried the tears, snapped a photo of the early morning sun filtering through the trees, and left the serenity of the cemetery for the McDonalds drive-thru. I had a sausage biscuit - with mustard - the way Mama always did. I'll be back before long. And I'll bring flowers. In the meantime, we'll keep at it. Miles to go. Find us faithful. Selah.
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