Graveside

On the Saturday after my mother passed away, my father and my sister and I, with our husbands, placed my mother into the earth.

Earlier in the week, my dad and I had picked out just the right spot for her in the Simsbury Cemetery. We knew that it felt right as we stood there - a beautiful place under a tree, with nice neighbors (including a fellow mother and nana of her same age), and surrounded by peacefulness.

We had also picked out just the right urn for her ashes - one which reflected her love of flowers and gardening and her style.

My father placed the ashes of his wife, my mother, into the ground.

The five of us (plus little Silas on Pliny's back) then gathered around the grave in a small circle. We each had in our hands a stalk of blue salvia from a neighbor's garden - blue for my mother's favorite color, a flower for my mother's favorite of all things!

My father spoke first. He talked about how what we were laying to rest in the ground here were the physical remains, but not the most important part of Dolly, his wife. She is still with us and will live on in our hearts. He said that he had loved her for 43 years, and would always love her. After speaking, he dropped his blue salvia flower into the grave alongside the urn.

We went in a circle, so Elder spoke next. I translated as he said that he would be eternally grateful to my mother for bringing me, his wife, into the world. He said that, although he was not able to spend as much time with her as we would have liked, he had seen the letters she sent me when I was in college, letters of pure and sincere love from a mother to her daughter. And he had heard comments from neighbors about her way of being, things which he said he sees reflected in his wife. He ended by saying that although she was no longer with us, her legacy and her genes continue to live on this earth, and that they are here with us, bursting with life.

I spoke next, describing some images which come to mind when I think of my mother. But even more than these images and the wonderful qualities they represented, I said that it was her love that stood out the most, and is what I would take away with me. I recently re-discovered letters and emails my mom had sent me years ago, and they were all filled with this sweet love and pride in her daughters. I had been thinking of reading a poem at the graveside which expressed who my mom was, but then I discovered this email from her - which almost sounds like a poem. So I read her email instead. It is from June 29 (Silas's birthday!) of 2004.

*****

Hi Abby

It's a bright sunny day here. Nice temperature. I'm
getting my hair
cut shorter today just on the sides. Dante is on the
wicker
bench, his usual snoozing spot. He also likes to get into
his king of
the hill spot above the stone wall where he is surrounded by
yellow
coreopsis. He's hard to see there and sometimes he jumps
out on me -
crazy cat! The hydrangeas and astibles are coming into
bloom as are the
daylilies, heather, and rhubarb. The peonies are finished now.

It's a beautiful time here with the sun shining, dappled
sunlight
through the trees and a soft breeze.

I'll be weeding the Japanese Garden today. This spring we
have gotten
the largest crop of weeds I've ever seen here. Dad is going
in search
of RoundUp - we have some but not enough and there are soft
green weeds
throughout the bluestone patio.

We have a little more bark mulch left so we'll be putting
that on the
porch garden.

Well, I must get to my gardening. We really enjoy your emails.

Love, Mom

*****

My sister read a poem that she had written after my mom's passing to express her feelings during this time. And finally, Pliny spoke. He described some of the old pictures of my mom which my sister had unearthed in recent days - pictures with her two young daughters playing around and on top of her. He talked about the legacy that she left, with two beautiful homes and her two daughters. When he finished speaking, he placed his blue salvia flower into the grave, along with the four others lying there.

My sister said a closing prayer. And then we just stood there for a little while - enjoying the warm sun shining upon us, the slight breeze through the tree, Silas's little hand reaching up to pull down leaves from the tree's branches, the prevailing sense of peacefulness which surrounded us. My mom would have loved it. It was an absolutely beautiful day, one just like the day she'd described to me in her email - "sun shining, dappled sunlight through the trees and a soft breeze."

It was a simple and perfect tribute to my mother.