Memory Dear

En route to a little getaway a couple of weeks ago, Sean and I happened across a very picturesque little cemetery.  We like cemeteries.  We are weird, I know.  There is something so peaceful and paradoxically life-affirming about them.

This one caught my eye because of the foundation of its little chapel.    The building actually rests on boulders and small slabs of rock shimmied under the floor.    I’m sure that was a perfectly fine foundation at earlier points in history, but I for one am grateful for modern building codes.  I kept imagining the building rolling down the hill on all those rocks if it just had a decent push.

I loved the architecture, the windows, the way the floor was raked inside so people sitting at the back had a decent view of what was happening at the front.  I love old things that still serve a purpose; that are still loved.  This building seemed loved, appreciated.

While so much about a cemetery is peaceful and calming to me, my heart aches when I see grave markers for babies (especially when rosebushes or trees have been planted to honor the life lost).  I cannot help but cry.  Every time.  I believe the child goes back to God and waits patiently for its parents. So, I do not cry for the child, I guess.  I think I weep for their mothers, because I know it would break my heart to lose a child. I hope the reflection makes me more grateful, and more determined to cherish my children every day.

This final headstone continues to puzzle me.  There were no dates chiseled on the marble, just the words: “To Memory Dear”.  And I have not been able to stop wondering if Memory is the name of the person; or if Memory is that thing poets say will allow us to have roses in December.  After all it is the thing we hang onto when someone we love is gone.

Last night, as I was washing the dishes, I thought about my grandmother and the moment I found out she had passed away. I miss her so much sometimes. And my grandpa too.  But I have the most wonderful memories of them.  Memories that I hold onto very tightly sometimes.  Because they can make me laugh or smile through my sadness.  I am so thankful for “Memory Dear”.