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.