Too heavy for this brain...

I've been to Daniel's spot twice this week. Once to put some Valentine's decor up and this evening. We had another showing at the house and the boys are sick so I wasn't about to take them anywhere germ infested, so my car managed to find it's way there. I was on the phone with a good friend at the time and while I was picking up a wreath that had been blown over he asked what I think about when I am there. Huh. What do I think about? What do I feel?

Initially, I stare down at the temporary marker the cemetery provides. (We're picking out his permanent marker next month; get ready for that post...) It's still shocking to read his name. Then I think about how much I wish grass would hurry and grow; it's depressing staring down at dirt. I look around at the other markers and think of those families, I look to the sky and around his spot. Sometimes, I close my eyes and listen to the sounds around his spot. I talk to him and Jesus. I do have a little trouble talking there. I feel more comfortable talking in my car or at home. It feels weird talking to dirt. I still often wonder what it all means; what my purpose is in all of this. Once, I prayed I would get to see him. I've read a book there, I've cried there, I've cleaned up the mud on his marker, I've rearranged his stuff there. I've walked by other markers and wondered about them. I turned around once and placed a purple teddy back on an infant's spot.

I don't know if I really allow myself to think there, though. Writing all of this out, I am beginning to think it still makes me uncomfortable being there. His spot really is in a very peaceful area, but there, peace eludes me. I have more anywhere else but there. I wonder why? I wonder why I can't think there; it seems I do everything else but think. I am so task oriented there. I find it difficult to stop moving. I wonder if it's because in my mind, I can see him whole and I can remember him and at his spot, it's like it's so final. Maybe it's just cemeteries in general. They carry a bad connotation with them. Death isn't a bad thing (I am slowly learning that) and it leads to a greater, full, eternal life. So, why do I feel empty every time I am there?

I think I will be taking this up with my therapist in February.