Drew's stone was set beside John's (properly) and I was elated. We planted daffodil bulbs all around for springtime and landscaped with fall mums and scarecrows. All looked as adorable as could be in Dead Baby Mama World, where you landscape around granite instead of fill sippy cups.
Because I work from home two days a week, I'll often swing by the cemetery for a "drive by" in the mornings. Last week there was a new neighbor right in front of our two cemetery plots - a fresh grave.
I'm a bit ashamed to admit this, but I was distraught. I'd just gotten the grave to how I wanted it. The stones were in place and I'd gotten to plant flowers - and I didn't want anything to disrupt the little bit of peace that came with that - not even a very nice dead old lady.
It reminds me that so much of my grief is still far out of my control and that I am capable of feeling the weirdest forms and wisps of sadness spurred from all sorts of weird circumstances.
I also feel the gravity of things harder than ever before. This old lady is now my eternal neighbor. Someday in the (hopefully) distant future, when I am cremated and added to the family vault, it will be behind Mary Lu.
How about that?
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