Part 12: What Do You Want on Your Tombstone?
The rest of the week was pretty much a blur, but I'm going to hit on the high points. Tuesday we had to go and pick out Addison's cemetery plot.
Why, you ask? Isn't she in a 2.5 inch tall urn? What in the world do we need a plot of ground for?
Because that's what the husband wanted. And a family member paid for it.
Oh.
Seems pretty simple…. I think at the time it was "gifted", we had not decided between casket or cremate. I was all about scattering ashes and really just never thinking of her again, moving on, putting the horrible event behind me and never looking back.
Hubby wanted somewhere to go to pay respects, to honor her, to "see" her. Made sense, I guess… a lot more expensive than just dumping the ashes in the ocean, lake, garden, etc…. but hey if that's what he needs to cope, I'm all for it.
So we meet the uncle at the cemetery attached to Copeland Presbyterian Church. That's where his grandfather is buried and the majority of passed family members. I figured if we were picking Addy's "plot" we might as well get the whole kit-and-kaboodle. Why the uncle? He's affiliated with the church and their cemetery, so he could look at the map thingy and tell us where they could "dig".
So creepy.
I figured I would make the most of my cemetery time and see what people write on these big, massive tombstones. Do they put a verse, a poem, a saying…. ok super creepy but now some of them have pictures…. kuh-reeepy! Most of them seemed pretty standard, birthday, death day (death day? Date of death? DD?), vase with dead flowers or fake ones that are sun-bleached… ok so I get the idea.
I found my husband's grandfather's grave. Figured it was time he and I had a chat. Nice tombstone, headstone, whatever you call it. I asked him to look after baby girl, do all the grandfather-y things he could with her, love her, look out for her…
Do they need to be looked out for in heaven? Do they "do" things in heaven? Is she in heaven? Is he? Is heaven for real? Or is it some made-up place people talk about so I don't feel so awful when someone dies?
Cuz I feel really awful. And no, I don't feel "at peace" being told my baby is in heaven. It doesn't make it any better. She's not supposed to be there. She's supposed to be with me. HERE.
But I guess if I could choose any other place for her, it would most definitely be in the arms of Jesus. I mean, when you put it like that, I have nothing to worry about, that's for sure. Again, I'm taken back to Abigail and Bryson's preschool teacher…. she teaches them "you get what you get and you don't pitch a fit".
Ok. Thanks Mrs. Milam. I needed that. I'm still mad on the inside… but shoot, I'll quit fighting it on the outside. At least people won't think I'm totally bonkers. And heck, I teach at a private Christian school, so I'd better not be questioning this whole heaven/Jesus thing…
The inner turmoil is almost more than I can bear. This is soooo NOT what I wanted to be doing on my maternity leave. It was NOT in MY plan. EVER. NEVER EVER.
So hubby and his uncle join me at the grandfather's grave. I make a stupid joke about standing on him and how that's a little weird. Come to find out, I was standing on someone else, having a conversation with someone else's feet.
LOL.
I was talking to the correct tombstone… but he was on the other side. Oh the things you learn at a cemetery. Didn't know there was a choice between standing on top of the "casket" and reading the tombstone, or having it face the other way so you're reading it with the "casket" part behind it.
Yep, I've lost it. I'm now talking to marble. Haven't lost my marbles…. just talking to them. Good grief.
So we pick out two plots and call it a day…two because we've decided Addy will be buried with us. One plot for hubby, the other plot for me. Since I want to be cremated, Addy and I can share the second plot. That way she'll never be alone.
Riiiigggghhht. Back to the whole, is she alone, is she in heaven, has she actually been cremated yet… does she still have all her limbs in place… oh the depths your brain and the devil can take you to when you're vulnerable. Word of caution and advice: Don't ever imagine someone being cremated. Really, who does that? What kind of sick torture am I putting myself through? It's bad enough I've been cut open and a baby yanked out of me…. and that same baby died in my arms for no apparent reason… but really, did my brain really need to take me to thoughts of cremation? REALLY?
That devil is good. Spiritual warfare…. "and the battle is not with flesh and blood"… nope, it's all in the mind.
So here's your spot, Addy…. nice and grassy. I mean, really, what's there to choose? It's a piece of grass, a section of ground… why in the world do I care where it is? Does it matter?
Oh, it matters…. if we want our whole family to be together, we need to make sure there are enough spots around where we are looking…
Oh jeez, really? Now I have to think about Bryson and Abby dying? Apparently so. Bryson would probably want a plot with us, near us… Abigail would most likely be buried alongside her husband, in his family's graveyard section…
What about more kids? Will we have more? Do we need more spots? Pay now, pay later? Goodness Jesus, help me. I'm so completely overwhelmed by grass. But it's so much more than grass…. I can't even think straight anymore. Everything is moving in super slow motion again and I feel like I'm going to lose it. Tears are rolling down my face and I just can't do any more. Time to go.
It didn't get much better. Our next stop was the tombstone shop, or whatever they call those places. Creepy-fest number 2. Looks like a bunch of rocks to me. Tall ones, short ones, dark ones, light ones… too many choices.
Oh, but they have a catalog. And a photo album "portfolio". They take pride in their craftsmanship.
So what do you want on your tombstone?
It was my turn to get the giggles…. but seriously, all pizza aside, that's a HUGE decision. And apparently, you can get whatever you want. You can write a book on the whole darn thing… there's no "set" template. At least, not with this place.
We decide we're going to get a stone that goes across both of our plots. His name on one side, mine on the other, Addy's in the middle. As if it couldn't get any worse, now I have to think about us dying.
But it IS significantly cheaper for them to go and add a date of death to our stone than to wait and buy a whole new one…. shoot, I'll be dead. Do I care? Don't even get me started on that conversation. That could take a few hours… Let's just say the more you take care of before you die, the easier it is on those remaining.
I guess we'd better stay married, then. Hmmm… what happens when people get divorced? Do they have a marble "eraser"? And ha, even funnier…. remarried? Would "she" want that tombstone after she knew MY name was on it? Oh, the hilarity. My grandmother remarried about twelve years after my grandfather died… does her new husband mind that she's buried next to my grandfather?
Oh the devil. Death, dying, divorce…. all in a couple of hours. Yep, I'm definitely losing it. Gotta get out of here. Way to much to think about. I can't do this now. I just cannot. I've reached my limit.
We get all the information we need and leave. They'll put whatever we want on the stone, I just send it to them. I'm good. Gotta get out of here. I'm so glad my husband is driving. I'm hurting. Physically, emotionally… everything. I'm spent.
We pick up a newspaper… gotta have Addison's obituary. Hmmm… she died between a nut, a shaver and a stapler… pepper died on the 17th…. the random things I now think are funny...
And all I can think of is how much the darn thing cost…. remember people, they charge by the WORD. You're definitely not in your right mind when you're writing that thing… maybe that's why some English teachers have students write their own obituaries… sounded a little morbid at the time, now I can TOTALLY see the merit behind this assignment. Sorry, fellow teachers… it took me a bit to come around.
Sometime later that day, evening, night… can't remember…. my husband tells me the most awesome story in the world. Our "boys", our football boys… they've done something incredible.
The day Addison died, they decided to do something in her honor. No, they didn't paint a water tower, they didn't do donuts in the practice field to spell out her name….
They made stickers. Hundreds of them.
Pale yellow background, her name in a pinkish-purple, with wings behind it. Yep, my boys did this. BOYS. Not girls… from what I've been told, no females were consulted for this project.
And what did they do with said stickers? Stuck em, of course.
That night, the night she died… they met up at the locker room and put stickers on every single football helmet.
Thus began a "Play for Addy" campaign that would last the entire football season. It even spilled over into the other sports… and purple was adopted.
Purple shoelaces for volleyball.
Purple everything for cross-country…hair ribbons, m&ms, duct tape… yep, duct tape…. not sure what that's used for but yep, duct tape.
The cheerleaders had purple scarves tied somewhere… hair, arm, leg…
The basketball players ordered purple towels with "Play for Addy" embroidered on them…
One of my seniors dedicated an art project…
A student made this for my classroom…
Our foreign exchange student wrote "Play for Addy" in Chinese on someone's arm…
The run through at one of the football games was dedicated to my baby girl…
The football team later went on to win the state championship… and dedicated it to Addy.
Perhaps that's why my faith was able to remain in tact. Seeing that outward profession of love and faith from teenagers, hearing teens confidently tell me that Addy was in heaven with Jesus…. definitely helped. A long time ago, someone told me "Fake it till you feel it"… makes sense now.
We still have the rest of the week to get through. The funeral is Thursday and family will be arriving tomorrow. Death is overwhelming. Death is tiring. Death is draining.
I'm sorry that your daughter passed, no mother should have to bury a child. I couldn't imagine that pain & I'll keep you in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteI'm not even sure how I found my way onto your blog, but I did & I was incredibly moved by what's happened to you & the writing you have done in regards to it.
There's just 1 thing, right above the photo of your daughters obit, you wrote,
"We pick up a newspaper… gotta have Addison's obituary. Hmmm… she died between a nut, a shaver and a stapler… pepper died on the 17th…. the random things I now think are funny..."
Again, I sympathize for what's happened to you, I've never lost a child & if I did, I doubt I would be able to handle it as well as you have, or seem to be handling it. But that doesn't change the fact that nothing about the paragraph you wrote over her obit photo was funny. The "nut, shaver, stapler & pepper", they were people too. They were son's, daughters, sisters, brothers, moms, dads & grandparents of people who loved them just as much as you loved your child.
There wasn't anythjng randomly funny about the reference you made.
I understand that losing anyone is hard, I've buried my father in my lifetime, as well as all my grandparents, it's never easy. My point is that grief comes in all shapes & sizes...in the thick of dealing with our own, we tend to forget the grief of others. Those people who died & shared the obituary page with your daughter, they were loved & mourned too. People missed them & struggled just as hard letting them go as you did with your loss. And I cannot help but feel that those who lost the nut, shaver, stapler & pepper, would think very much of you making light of & finding their nicknames & surnames so randomly funny. Surnames follow us from our parents, from our marriage, to the grave. Nicknames given to people, such as the ones used in these folks obituary's are given to them & used with affection & familiarity for those who knew them. There's nothing randomly funny about these terms of endearment.
However, I do know that grief makes us say, do, type things, that we otherwise wouldn't. Like maybe me, maybe I shouldn't even be pointing this out...I guess as someone who goes by a nickname the majority of the time, I understand that it's not a long standing joke, but a term people use in regards to me with affection.
That being said, I want you to know that even the best people with the best intentions say things they don't think over or through. When dealing with grief, our whole sense of self tends to change. I get that. Some of the things you wrote, it sounds like me sometimes...
I've got mad admiration for you, how you've written your story & been able to share it in such a public forum. Not many people would find the strength to do such a thing. I hope that doing this, provided you comfort in some measure. I can see that you deserve that.
As one mother to another, God bless you & your family. I hope happiness finds you & stays there.