"It is often said that something may survive of a person after his death if that person was an artist and put a little of himself into his work. It is perhaps in the same way that a sort of cutting taken from one person and grafted onto the heart of another continues to carry on its existence even when the person from whom it had been detached has perished."
Author: Marcel Proust
When my ex and I lived in the city, before we had children, I used to go to the cemetery when we fought. I would sit by my grandparents' markers and remove the grass, weeds and dust from the graves of all those I love. It was peaceful for me, it was a soft place when I was not feeling strong. I have not been back to visit in quite a while but today I went and cleaned everyone up. As I worked my way through the cemetery, I realized that these people (9 in all) who I loved, have made me who I am today!
My first stop is always my paternal grandparents and my uncle who is tucked safely away with them. My grandfather holds a special place in my heart. My memories of him are all good and filled with smiles and laughter. I loved him with my whole heart. My grandmother was a strong woman with a beautiful heart. My memories of her are also all wonderful. Always kind and nurturing, she was always a safe place to fall. My uncle, who was also my godfather, was always full of laughter and smiles. I have fond memories of him playing jokes and making me laugh. This grave fills me with strength, kindness, devotion and humor.
Next stop was my maternal grandmother. The grass was knee high as it had not been cut yet this year. As I cleared away the debris from her grave the mosquitos has a feast on my blood. My grandma and I never quite saw eye to eye. My mom says it was because we were a lot alike, she was just as stubborn as me. I was a little bit outspoken which I think she admired and disliked all at once! I always saw her as a very strong, knowledgeable woman, a force to be reckoned with. I take from this grave tenacity, determination and will power.
My next stop is always the same, a man who was not a family member, who I never even met. He was a classmates of my father's who was shot in the line of duty just weeks after graduating from recruit class. I grew up hearing stories of this man, even still I hear the occasional stories. Usually they are the same, filled with the same strength, sadness and humility. Watching my father be a policeman and then my ex, this man's story always made me thankful for the safe return of those I love after each shift. This grave leaves me with passion, commitment and humility.
Next I go to my paternal grandfather, who passed away 6 years before I was born. He is buried in the military section of the graveyard and stepping into this area always fills me with pride. I only knew my grandfather through stories. My parents always told me that he and I would have gotten along brilliantly. I take from this grave passion, loyalty and bravery.
Next on the list is the grave of my ex's mother and sister. His mother loved her boy and was very passionate about the work she did. She faced many trials in her life and faced many obstacles, but always seemed to land on her feet. She and I were alike in many ways. She had a kind heart that was always meaning the best. I apologized to her today because I promised her on her death bed that I would always take care of her son. I said I was sorry for being forced to break that promise. My ex's sister was my hero. She had muscular dystrophy and was confined to a wheel chair during the last years of her life. She was stubborn as hell and was not going to let her condition define her. She went to college and lived on her own. I miss her greatly, she was also a dear friend. There is honestly not a week goes by that I don't think of her. I take from this grave tolerance, courage and acceptance.
The next grave is that of a woman I never knew she is my maternal great grandmother and she became a single mother after her husband was killed in a heroic but tragic accident. She was a strong woman who raised her children in the eye of adversity, poverty and hardship. Had I had a daughter, she would have been named for this woman. From this grave I take hope and wisdom.
I left feeling empowered today. I have the support of so many that are here on earth with me but I know that each of the people I visited today, each with a special place in my heart, have also helped create the woman I am today. I am never alone because each of these people and the qualities that I have been endowed with because of their impact on my life, show in the way I conduct myself and in the strength I have. They are always with me, always a part of me.
Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.
~From the television show The Wonder Years
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