The Tears Have Already Been Shed

Yesterday was 10 years since Dad passed away. Time in a way seems to have stood still in my heart - I see him and remember things about him, but I don't ever hear his voice. Outside my heart, time has continued to move. Children were born - 3 grandchildren that he would have been thrilled to know. People have died; Mom, of course, his great uncle, the patriarch of the traditional Dutch family, a favorite sister-in-law, plus many others. But none as missed as he is.

Recently I heard that the cemetery where he and Mom are buried was sold, and the new owners are making great efforts to make it more beautiful. The property sits on top a hill, out at the edge of a hayfield, in what was until just the past few years was only farmland. Now there is a Sears and a gas station, and soon the rest will come and it will crowd around the tiny cemetery, taking the peacefulness from it. So if there is a chance that it will at least look better, then great. We have been told that the soil was bad, there was too much iron or minerals in the water, the prairie dogs were too many, on and on went the excuses. The grass was never green - never like Dad's yard. But now, the new owners are scraping off the bad soil, trucking in water, setting down sod and getting rid of the prairie dogs. Yes, I know they are cute and crucial to the food chain, but when they dig into a casket or cause damage to the headstone, they ain't too cute.

I'm going to stop by and check out the improvements. It's been a year or more since I've been there. Our family never was one to maintain a vigil at a graveside, planting flowers or leaving fresh ones each week, or visit regularly at all. After my grandmother was buried, we never went to the cemetery, unless there was another burial to attend. Once, we searched for an hour for my grandfather's headstone, and never did find it. It wasn't intentionally neglected, but entrusted to the cemetery to look after.

I think that it was that the tears had already been shed, and bringing up those feelings wasn't necessary - we loved them and missed them, but tears won't change anything. I don't want to visit the cemetery, to remind myself of how much has been lost, how much time has passed without them. I want to have the headstone neat and cared for, the grass to be green, the place to be just what it is - a resting place for our parents. The names on the brass headstone are sometimes too much to look at - Arthur and Rosann - they were our parents - and always will live on in our hearts, regardless of where their bodies are. And I don't think that they would want any of us to be sad, to bring up the hurt from where it's buried in our hearts. I think they would be glad that the grass is finally green.