The Cemetery

Thank you so much to those who read this blog. The emails and comments from so many have made the effort rewarding and it is an honor to share Joshua with you.

Each year my body begins a journey before I am aware of its occurrence. When I finally realize it, it is to late to back out. I think this journey begins in March as the warm weather begins to set in and body starts the process of grieving before my heart again begins it fully. Usually mid March I start feeling run down, headaches and a constant feeling like I forgot something. That same nagging feeling when you pack for a vacation and just can’t figure out what it is. Did I truly forget him? No never, but possibly the distractions of winter are enough to cause the pain to fade from the front of my mind. For many March is an excited time of watching the flowers start to bud, the birds come back and make nests and people walking around happy and cheerful. This was always the case for me until the birth of spring, turned to the death of spring.

It is now the end of April and what my body has been suffering, my heart and soul and mind have begun to understand. The weeping is almost uncontrollable at times, the soft warm breezes on my face or the grass under my feet, only take me to the cemetery in my mind. I now stand half way through this doorway, looking forward and knowing that the mercy of the body to help the mind got me here. There is no going back, it is almost time to face June 3rd for the 5th year. I now have to continue moving forward because I am to far to run back.

Yesterday I embraced the upcoming anniversary and knew that I needed to go and take some time with Josh at the cemetery. The tree greeted me as always! A tree I fought hard for him to be under. This was the first time I took on the responsibility of the raking and the clipping and removing old flowers and replacing the hat. I now understand why I never have. With each dandelion I clipped off the bed of grass on my son I almost screamed, with each brush of dirt of his stone I could feel it taunting me being all that lay between me and my son. It was physically impossible, and reminded me of the very hard task I have of the physical and tactile aspect of death.

As I spend the next month with my body and soul and heart becoming one to grieve, I am astonished again how the body can actually give birth and then feel as if by some awful torment actually have to take this birth back. The cruelest thing I have ever known.

~Blessings.