Grief and Dirt

 

I never imagined how harsh the boundary line of overturned soil and grass would be. Last week as I entered the small cemetery of my grandparent's hometown, I wondered if I would be able to find my grandfather's burial plot. I knew the general vicinity to look. As I drove my car into the cemetery, I knew exactly where his plot was. The mound of overturned soil was a stark reminder to the reality of this moment. He's. Really. Gone. I got out of my car. I sat next to the dirt and began tidying the area. I straightened the flowers. Pulled the nearby weeds. Wished more than anything that there was a blanket of grass covering him. I cried. I talked to him. I watched the setting sun. I dug out a golf tee from Cade's golf bag in the car and placed it near the flowers. He always talked to the boys about their most recent golf tournaments. I told him how much I missed being a hospice nurse. I told him Michael was staying busy with work. These were the things he would have asked me about. I told him I missed him everyday since he died and that I loved him. I asked him to be with Granny because she misses him more than any one of us could. I told him goodbye, again.

I miss him every single day. 

~jen