When Mom died in March, the ground was still frozen, and this cemetery does not open graves in winter. We had to wait.
So together with my husband, sons, daughter-in-law, and our new granddaughter, we buried Mom's ashes. Just the seven of us sharing our thoughts, memories, poems, and songs while circled around a small wooden box.
I wasn't going to cry, I had already cried a river of tears, but they could not be stopped.
Our kids were there with comforting arms, their strength, their youth, their love. Our granddaughter was there with her new-found ability to giggle and laugh. My husband, my rock, keeps me from falling apart.
And my brother, thank you for being my brother, I am so very thankful, for you.
If I Should Go by Joyce Grenfell
If I should go before the rest of you
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone
Nor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voice
But be the usual selves that I have known
Weep if you must
Parting is hell
But life goes on
So sing as well.
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone
Nor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voice
But be the usual selves that I have known
Weep if you must
Parting is hell
But life goes on
So sing as well.
1 comment:
Lovely to all gather and remember your mom. So sad that the loss eases but never seems to go away. Holding you in my thoughts.
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