Headstones and Homesteads
I ran an errand to the mall today and ended up sitting at my Grandparents’ grave site.
I don’t know why, really. I’m not much of a grave visitor.
I had a rough day today. But I’ve had other rough days and none have sent me running to their grave. Perhaps it is just that I happened to be by myself this afternoon and wanted just a few more minutes of solitude before switching gears from day job Me to Wife and Mamma. It’s never good to bring the day home.
So I pulled into the cemetery and quickly found their bench.
My Grandparents’ headstone is a bench just big enough for two to sit close together. After my Grandmother died, he selected it so he could sit and visit with her.
It’s a nice bench. As I approached, I noticed that one of my aunts had recently placed Easter flowers at their bench and trimmed the grass around their stone and the Great Grandmother’s next to them. I touched the granite, skimming over their names, the dates, the loving words carved from Him to Her…
I sat down on their bench for just a second on this beautiful spring afternoon before the tears started to fall. But the tears were not for them; they were not tears of grief. Somehow sitting there allowed me to unload all of the pent-up bad day inside. A million thoughts and worries swirled in my head and I spoke to them both, asking for advice and for help as I have so many times before.
As I sat on their bench, I looked across the cemetery to their house and their yard. I breathed deeply and smelled the exact smell of my Grandparents’ yard on Easter Sunday. I always thought their yard smelled like Magic on Easter Sunday. I noticed the breeze as it came up from the river just beyond the trees and remembered how that breeze blew across their yard on lazy summer afternoons as we floated lazily in the pool watching the hot sun dip lower in the sky until it was too cool to stay in the water any longer. I heard the sound of the breeze blowing through the trees just the same as it did all those years ago when we all laughed and played in that yard. A million memories swirled in my head as I remembered all of us – siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles – growing up together in that yard.
Moments later, two birds – robins perhaps – came from the direction of their yard, playing in the warm spring wind. They flew directly over me and their bench, skipping back and forth together as they flew. I watched them until they disappeared from sight and noticed that my tears had dried.
Slowly, I rose and walked among the surrounding headstones – relatives all, resting here together. As I looked down the hill and across the cemetary, I could see the rooftops of all of their homes – the cluster they called “Up Home” and the others surrounding it. I matched names to chimneys and noticed just how closely they had lived to one another, yards and lives connected – then and even now.
Many have moved on from those homes for just as many reasons, but it will still always belong to them, this neighborhood they called Home. It was time for me to leave now, too. I took one last breath of that Easter Sunday Magic from the breeze and headed for my car. My worries had not disappeared, but my thoughts seemed lighter and my soul felt more at peace.
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Want to read about the love story of these two beautiful people? Check out A Standing Date.
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This is an old post, but I’ve pulled it to join Kristi over at Finding Ninee for Finish the Sentence Friday. This week’s sentence is “My home town…” There’s still time to join – feel free to write about where you’re from, where you wish you were from, a memory of home, growing up, or anything else that comes to you as you think of your home town.
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Yes, those moments. They excist. And sometimes it helps to cry.
I rather like the idea of a bench by way of a headstone. There is something very comforting in it.
I thought it was a little odd at first, but it made perfect sense for him to have that option. And now, well, it came in handy for someone else, too!
It’s nice that you can find comfort and strength in memories of your family members. Not everyone is so close to their families that they can do that.
Very true, Heather, and I am so grateful for it. It’s an experience I’d never trade!
I love how you included all your family members, not just your cousins and siblings, when you say you all grew up together.
No matter what our ages, we all grow and learn and love at the same time. If we can do it together, all the better.
Your close knit family makes me wistful of my own. A moving post of how loved ones can heal us even if they’re not physically there.
We really did grow up together. As you said, everyone grows and learns no matter what age. We also have some close gaps in the family – my youngest aunts and uncles are just a few years older than I am so the transition from my Grandparents’ group of children to the first group of their children’s children is seamless. Even now, there is nowhere from the oldest of my Mom’s siblings to the youngest great-grandchild where there is a gap of more than about six years. It’s awesome.
What a touching story. If you’re having a rough day, that would be a pretty good place to go for a while. I don’t have a place like this I can go. I wasn’t close to any of my grandparents except my maternal grandmother. Her grave is so far away though that I can’t regularly visit it.
I do think it’s good to have a place to be quiet and find comfort and strength. Don’t bring your day self home with you.
Turned out to be a very nice visit.
Oh Lisa this is beautiful! And I am convinced we are destined to be great friends, same wavelength for our throwback posts 💜
Thank you, Christina. I think we just may be… <3
The bench is a wonderful idea, Lisa. Your post brought memories of many happy days spent in grandparents’ home too. Although we didn’t live there, and many of my cousins lived abroad, in a sense we all grew up together because my parents and theirs made sure to make regular visits back ‘home’. Today, that house has been converted into a wonderful maternity hospital that reaches out to many and my cousin has created a chapel in it using the original doors of the house and dedicated a floor to each to my grandmother and grandfather. It’s a lovely way to stay connected with them.
I do believe that your grandparents and mine are looking down on us with love.
Oh my gosh, Corinne, that’s an amazing story about your grandparents’ home!!! How cool! Now here’s a kind of connected fact: The church where my grandparents were married is now a soup kitchen that serves needy families in the area. They both grew up in the area surrounding that church, obviously, and their home was indeed a place where people gathered. Always. My mom has often told the story of a night she came in late from a play or something and many of my uncle’s friends were asleep in the house and my grandmother said “Be careful where you step, not all of these people are your brothers.” There were always people in their home eating, talking, enjoying one another’s company. So I think it’s cool that their old church is now a soup kitchen.
The bench was the perfect thing for him, Corinne, truly. I do believe that they are all in heaven watching and loving us. Definitely. And I think my grandparents are probably having a wonderful time together, as they always did. Maybe having a good time with yours!
That’s wonderful, Lisa. As hospitable as they were, I’m certain that my grandparents couldn’t house too many guests overnight – they had 15 children! 😉
Beautiful, just beautiful!
Thank you, Denise!
Absolutely beautiful. Thank you.
Thank you for reading, Melissa! I love this one. So glad you liked it.
[…] other day I stopped for donuts at the bakery where my Grandparents always got baked goods. The bakery smell positively transported me back to the Sundays of my […]
This is lovely, Lisa! The idea of family’s yards all connected so close to one another is appealing to me. I wish my family lived close by… at least, most of the time. I also love the idea of a bench as a headstone. Thanks much for linking up!
It was really cool having so many family – and friends, too – nearby when we were all growing up. Thanks for letting me share an oldie. This is one of my favorites.