Sunshine on My Back

I'm sitting on a blanket at my Mom and Dad's grave. The sun shines on my back, warming my aching soul. Two squirrels are engaged in a ruthless but friendly game of chase below the two trees that frame the sunset every evening. I can hear the birds singing all around me; the cardinals' songs stand out with their distinct melody and cadence.


It's been two years (and one hour and fifteen minutes) since my sweet dad took his last breath. It feels like forever since I looked into his crystal blue eyes or held his hand in mine. One of the last things I said to him the night before he died was a promise to take care of Mom for him. And that I did.

As I sit here, next to me is the new outline of dirt where her body is buried. The flowers that adorned the top of the casket are still here. Dead now. Reminding me, yet again, of just how messy grief is. The ribbons telling the world who she was: wife, mom, grandma, sister, are tattered and stained. I should throw it away. But that feels so final. Then again, everything feels final.

As I look around at the nearby graves, some have flowers planted. Some have fresh flowers laying on them. Others have empty hooks where flowers once hung. There are graves that are decorated everywhere. And the ones completely bare, no sign of life. Or love.

Is this just what happens? Eventually the pain of loss fades and families move on? I know in theory that's what happens. Our loved ones would want us to continue with our lives. But I cannot imagine a world where I don't experience an intense emotional connection to and pull toward Mom and Dad's final resting place. They aren't here; I know that. But because so much pain has taken place in this spot, from choosing the plot all alone five years ago, designing the gravestone, burying Dad, to now burying Mom, this is a safe place for my grief to land. Maybe my story will change. But for now, I'm going to take all the comfort I can get and appreciate the fact that the warm sunshine on my back feels exactly like my dad's hand.