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December 03, 2006

Memories of a Ceremony

I didn't think I would break down like I did. I suppose it shouldn't really have suprised me. I haven't been back to the cemetary since grandmother passed some time ago. When I was there last, I pretty much broke down bodily and mentally. I thought I was ready... I had even steeled myself to it. So much for preparation.

I remember standing in the circle with the family about the stone while the priest was ministering. I naturally positioned myself on the outside right, just to have some space for myself. I kept looking away from the marker to the right... there was a tree there, still bearing autumn blossoms that had yet to fall... all quite brown and dry but yet still clinging to the tree as they had when the blossoms were alive... still there even after the leaves had all fallen quite away. I kept thinking about that... how the blossoms were still there even after the tree had gone dormant... even after the green foliage had all gone. I kept thinking about it, my eyes sliding between that and the stone with my grandmother and grandfather's names on it. A few sentences from the minister kept creaping into my consciousness thou I wasn't really paying attention. I mouthed the words to a few words by rote memory, not really present in it. Eyes sliding to the tree. Eyes slide to the marker, tracing each letter with my eyes... the pain starts to build...shifting of feet. Eyes slide to the tree. Eyes slide to the marker. Finally I broke, stepping back away from the others, to lean against the car and try to regain control of myself, weeping uncontrollably.

My aunt, Rita, had bought a rose for each of the children, and each of the grandchildren. As the priest closed, we each stepped forward and layed our flower upon grandfather's ashes. I tore a petal from mine and clutched it tightly... destined to be pressed in my Bible as soon as I could get home. The scent of roses was strong. The wind picked up sharply, blowing hard for but a moment. I took it as a sign from grandmother that she finally got her hands back on grandfather. I can imagine she has much to discuss with him. I found it humorous for some reason.

Several of my cousins started breaking, I tried to comfort them as I could, reminding them that we were all here and that it was okay. Funny how you don't always believe what you say yourself. I always hated when people said certain things at funerals to comfort.

All of my grandparents are now gone. Even at 35, that causes me pain. I was close to my grandparents. I often flew down to Florida just to spend Christmas with them on my own... setting out all their ornaments, their tree... wrapping presents for the younger children... I was just so happy to be near them. When grandfather moved here, I often went over just to talk to him and visit. He called me quite often. Even though he aggravated me, I liked talking to him, because he was the only one I had left. Now, it is over... I have only memory. I am comforted, at least, in feeling that I said everything I ever needed to say to him while he was here.

No, I wasn't there at the moment that he died. I have been there for too many now, I have seen the moment of release. I think I can only bear to do that for my brother and mother, God forbid, when that time comes. I bear no guilt to how I dealt with this. I have learned and am at peace with it. I hope the others can be as well.

Posted by Ravennacht at December 3, 2006 02:06 PM Posted to Family Matters