A Cemetery Kind of Day

thank you Waldemar Brandt for the photo

It was sunny but cold, a neat trick of life on the coast, when the blanket layer of clouds pulled back and allowed the sun to cross the sky unobstructed. It was a nice afternoon, the whimsical combination of errands and treats dictating the route.  I found myself staring at the blue sky when I realized where I was and made an unscheduled stop.  Pulling into the parking lot behind the church, I immediately turned off the stereo and peered through the trees.  The graveyard lay in an Oak grove and as my feet touched the ground, my shoes crunched on the acorns and leaves the winter left behind.  Gingerly walking across the grass, dodging clusters of grape hyacinth sown generously by nature, I made my way to the headstone.  It was beginning to look like spring but it felt like winter, I shivered and pulled my coat tighter.

I have never woken up and thought, “Today is a cemetery kind of day.”  So I was a bit surprised that my errands had landed on this side of town.  The cemetery itself is one of the oldest in the area and less fashionable than the perfectly manicured cemetery grounds less than a mile away.  The ground is uneven and undulating, caused by a century of root growth from surrounding trees.  The overall effect is one of cozy, timeless neglect. 

There was broken glass around the grave, which immediately kicked off an internal dialogue of criticism.  “Drinking in a graveyard? Classy. I hope your ancestors haunt your dreams to remind you to stay out of here. Clearly you need your great, great grandma to show up and set your lame-self straight.”  I listened to myself for a while, marveling at the boldness of those who don’t yet have the life experience to view such ground as holy.  

Picking up the glass, my thoughts turned to remembrance.  He would have disapproved of broken glass that could have inured deer or other graveyard creatures.  He loved nature, sometimes more than people.  And dear friend, if you have lost someone, you might understand when I say that I spent some time with thoughts that were as sharp as the shards of glass I was holding.  Loving people isn’t always easy, losing them can be equally as difficult. 

It was a tiny stab to my finger that brought the sting of tears to my eyes but the lacerations to the heart caused them to fall.  I spent a while intentionally thinking about the lovely things, until the tears stopped.  Sometimes I miss the past, when life seemed simpler, less complicated.  It is hard to take the good with the bad, the remedied with the unresolved or the finished with the incomplete. 

As this pandemic continues, with all of its impact and force, I have been thinking about those who have been left feeling incomplete by the things they have lost.  Those who didn’t get to say goodbye: funerals that didn’t happen, business that closed, friendships that ended, the graduations suspended.  The list goes on and on and on.   Perhaps you are experiencing the frustration of being deeply impacted by loss yet entirely powerless to bring about a remedy.  Friend, I hope that you are being patient with yourself.  Recovery takes so much longer than anyone wants.  Grief is a time consuming process and avoidance isn’t a short cut.  Spend too much time stuffing your grief and you might end up being snippy with the Costco employee who tells you can’t look at your daughters face without her mask for 2 seconds when buying new glasses frames even though you are more than 10 feet away from everyone and the woman is behind Plexiglas on the other side of the store. 

Strictly hypothetical, of course.

So I am praying and cheering you on this week if you are feeling inadequate, and like you want to stay in bed.  Get up and do the next thing.  Accept the good with the bad.  Try not to lose it and put yourself in time-out if you need too. 

I'm in the time-out corner, come visit, I'm here for a while.

xoxKaren