Well, I am completely worn out. I am sure you can relate. For the past three weeks, I have either hosted or attended every Christmas party I possibly could, shopped for or made the perfect gifts, baked cookies, decorated the house, cleaned and re-cleaned the house, designed and sent Christmas cards, and so on. And fitting this all in with regular life. Raise your hand if this is you, too! I enjoyed it all while doing it, but I reached my limit and for the last few days it’s been hard to find energy. I was glad we planned a low-key Christmas day with just the three of us. And, I am coming down with a cold.
I wanted to share one thing that I did this holiday season that I am most happy about. If you have been reading along with me for the last six months since I launched Home with a Twist, you’re familiar with the story behind the loss of my parents and the challenges I have had, in particular, with grieving the loss of my mother (read here). One thing I haven’t been able to do in the three years since she died was visit the cemetery.
This past Wednesday, I was in the area of the cemetery picking up a Christmas gift. As I got closer, I had this feeling that it would be okay to go by and say hello. I wondered if the florist at the funeral home had wreaths or poinsettias I could place at their graves. As I made it to the corner, there in front of their building were rows and rows of beautiful tokens of Christmas. I pulled in and decided on a bunch of poinsettias to add a pop of color to Mother and Daddy’s plot they share with my grandparents and Daddy’s baby sister who died when she was two.
I parked and walked over. It wasn’t as hard as I thought. It did make me cry a little to see Mother’s name carved into the marble. We visited and talked about Christmas. I looked over and saw that my Daddy’s little sister, Pauline, died on December 21, the next day. I can only imagine what that must have been like for him and my grandparents to lose a child four days before Christmas.
As I drove around to leave, I could see the mound of red poinsettias — the only spot of color to be found in that older section of the cemetery. I could just imagine Mother’s smiling face at how pretty she thought the flowers looked. She loved color! It gave me great comfort, not sadness, as I drove away. And hope, that many more visits are to come. Perhaps next time I shall take daffodils.
Here we come! At least you don’t have to clean for us!
Beautiful story. So glad you were able to visit your parents.
I’m glad you mustered up the courage to do this. Yes, it’s a harsh reality seeing their name engraved like that. I had a similar experience the first time I went to visit my mom’s.