Written in Stone

This week I finally had the time and mental strength to order the grave markers and family bench that will be place at the cemetery, hopefully before the first anniversary of my husband’s death. The marker at the foot of the grave was not hard to decide on, as it is a Veteran’s marker and I just needed to decide what color granite would go underneath. The headstone was another story, and as I was trying to determine what words and emblems we wanted to put on the headstone marker, it became more and more apparent to me that a few words on a marker are not ever enough to describe the person who is memorialized there. That person was the love of my life and so many other phrases could be used to describe what he meant to me; he was the father of my children and they could each think of a hundred things that they would want to say about him. It also hit me that I was choosing what would be engraved on my own side of the stone since we bought a double marker, and that meant I needed to ask my kids what they would put on that side, too. That prompted putting to rest fearful thoughts of losing more than one parent in their lives; it is much easier to believe that death is a reality when you have already lost one parent, even when you remember that God is in control. We reached an agreement about what we would say, and it was precise and to the point. His side reads “Loving husband, father, & Papa G.”; my side reads “Devoted wife, mother, & Gigi”. A scroll emblem tells the date of our marriage; another scroll has praying hands and the last shows a cross on a Bible. The bench has our family name on both sides so that it will be noticeable without searching all the flat markers in this cemetery to find where we are buried. It is ordered and paid for; so now we wait for it to be installed so that we can put pretty flowers there.
Now that it is all said and done, there is a sense of relief that those decisions are made. I cried with relief. One more thing has been checked off the list that has been hanging over my head; a list of things that I am just not physically and emotionally capable of tackling all at once. I have found grief to be somewhat paralyzing sometimes; not in the way that most people would describe it, but in the way that those who are grieving know all too well. It comes sometimes because we are just too overwhelmed with all that is going on around us; at other times it appears when we are just not sure that our decision on something will be the correct one. I think in my case it was a combination of both of those that has had me put off choosing and ordering the markers until just the right time. It is a relief; but it is also one more evidence that this is real and he is gone.
I have been so blessed to have friends and family who allow me to grieve at my own pace and who have been understanding about my putting off some things that didn’t have to be done right away. The first few months after a death are so hard and seem so full of meetings with people about the funeral and cemetery and finances and insurance and other things that have to take place immediately. There is a point where the real grieving just has to take a backseat to those things for that time period; but eventually the grieving has to take place if you want to be able to heal. When that time comes, it is OKAY to put some things on the back burner and take care of yourself and those around you who just need to be held and to talk. It is OKAY, and yes, even BEST, to “Be still, and know…” that God is God. He will honor that and give His blessing for the timing of things that need to get done.
It was time to get this done. It will be nice to go to the cemetery and see something besides just the grass covering the place where my love’s body rests. It will give a place for us to sit and soak in the beauty of the fountain that is in front of us there and to pray to the Lord in the silence that always permeates the grounds there. I am glad God gave me the strength to get this “next thing” accomplished this week. My list is one item smaller, and I can breathe again.