Thinking about the cemetery

I still can’t go there.
To that little swatch of grass
bathed in sunlight
without even a dappling of shade
It seems like a  green field of memories
with almost no one left to remember
Even the words  subscribed on the tiny brass plaques
seem somehow belittling
With them set into the ground
for the convenience of mowers
to pass over
It makes her seem
so inconsequential
that she shouldn’t trouble the groundskeeper
with her monument
It makes me think of the mundane consequences of death
that overshadow the greatness of life
Like the simple economics
of  maintenance
I can’t look at the life of such a beautiful women
summed up in such a small way
it seems  so common
so trite
I know that she would have told you
that she was common
but she wasn’t
She had a greatness in her soul and being
that transcended the normal
that transcends death
I am overwhelmed by that little plaque
and it’s insignificance
Enough to paralyze me from going there
I know that if I see it it will push
the other memories from my mind
and supplant her
She will become a place in a cemetery
with a little map on the grounds keeping shed
gridded and numbered
number 6 in row B
a little part of the order in a small field
and I can’t have that.

Yeah, even guys like me have Moms.

2 responses to “Thinking about the cemetery

  1. “She will become a place in a cemetery” – maybe that’s it. Mama, Papa, sister – they can never, every leave my every day – but they are SO MUCH MORE and truly I don’t want that place to be part of the memories. I don’t want to think of the harsh Texas sun, or cold winters or ….. too much. Thanks for writing this.

    • Thank you. I see we are at the same place with that.It has been 18 yrs. and I have never returned since the funeral.I would rather keep her right where she is.

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