This time was different. Most people didn't acknowledge our most recent loss. I'm sure people just didn't know what to say....two losses within a year? It's unimaginable...what do you say?
We had a nice, intimate mass at our home. Every Sunday at church, we recite the words, "I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof...". Never before have those words had so much meaning to me.
The following day, we had a nice ceremony in the cemetery. I remember being so sore, and so swollen. I could barely walk. I had to be assisted out of the car and helped to my seat. I think I was still in shock. I couldn't believe I was sitting there again...burying another son. Madden was buried right above Max.
While Father was speaking, I imagined two little boys. They were young, maybe two and three years old. They were wearing denim overalls, the older boy had a frog sticking out of his front pocket. They stood there looking at us, smiling, with their arms wrapped around each other. They watched us awhile, and then took off running in circles, chasing one another...giggling and squealing. It was so real to me...I can recall it so vividly. I wondered at the time if it was my imagination, or if I had actually seen it.
I often recall that image as I visit the cemetery. They were so happy, and that's how I like to think of them. I know many people find peace while visiting the cemetery. I don't. It's something very unnatural to me. I hate to stand by my son's graves and think of their bodies lying six feet in the earth. I have unreasonable questions..."are they hot? can they breathe?" I know it doesn't make sense, but that's where my mind goes...to the physical needs of my boys, even though they have no more physical needs.
I visit the cemetery mostly out of duty...or if I feel like I need a really good cry. I don't believe my boys are actually present there. I feel more connected to them at Sunday mass than I do at their graves. After sitting, praying and talking out loud in the cemetery, I usually stand up and say, "okay boys, let's go." I truly believe they come with me, and leave with me.
I am so thankful for my faith. I know how difficult it is to think of the physical aspect of death. Imagining my boys little bodies, lifeless in the ground, is nearly torturous. Thank God I believe in more than the physical. The spiritual aspect of death is refreshing, uplifting and full of hope. If I didn't believe in the spiritual side of it, I don't think I could make it through the physical.
"And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell." -Matthew 10:28
"Fathers and mothers of families should bring up their children virtuously, looking at them rather as God's children than their own; and to count life and health, and all they possess, as loans which they hold of God." -St. Philip Neri
I understand exactly how you feel. The worst thing for me was having to put Tyler in a box. That tortured me. I did not want him in there, could not look at him in there, my son who loved the outdoors, who after being cooped up in the house studying would have to go jump for the 4-wheeler for a ride down to the tank for a 15 minute break. I wanted to cremate him and scatter him outdoors, where he so loved to be. But Steve needed a place to go visit him and I respected that. As for me, I don't need a place to visit, I feel him all around me all the time. I know he is with us in church, at the river where he loved to hunt and fish and everywhere we go. His presence is so strong sometimes I actually smile.
ReplyDeleteThank you God for the sacrifice of your son, so that ours may have eternal life and we may one day see them again. Amen
Your words are comforting and hopeful....I have a blog, but at this point is mostly me screaming and crying....nothing too inspirational about mine, yet. Hopefully someday I can feel hope again like you do. We visited the cemetery y today. We actually are lunch there. It's been nearly five months since my son's death and I've only gone out there maybe six times. My husband goes once a week. It is harder for me
ReplyDeleteThe purpose of the cemetery, for me, has changed many times over the years. In the beginning, I had to go every day - to check on things (what things?). Later, I had to to go by there if I were leaving town. Sometimes, I would go to have a good cry. Now, that my parents have passed and are buried nearby, I go by there to check on the flowers. I do not believe that she is there, but I have a need to make sure that her final, earthly resting place is nice. For a long time, I thought I was odd about going to the cemetery, but now, who cares? I still carry my love for her in my heart - that is what counts for me.
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