When I was a girl, whenever we went down to Virginia, my father would take all his children to visit my grandfather’s grave. He was just a boy when his father George died so we never knew him. Still, my father would have us share what our lives were like. It thought it was peculiar because as a person of faith I didn’t believe his body was there. Yet, we always obliged my dad. Never once did I think, standing above his father, that I’d be standing over mine someday doing the same thing.

When I was in college I met a few guys whose fathers had passed away. One was a guy I dated. I thought it strange that he never visited his father’s grave. One day he took me there. It was odd standing above a man I did know but I felt like it was an important step in our relationship.

Today, I stood at my parents’ graveside in the frigid cold as they installed their joint headstone. The chill made my joints ache but it wasn’t my greatest pain.  I’ve never felt so alone in the world. I never felt so untethered to this life. As I rubbed my hand across the bronze memorial I felt comforted that they were together and angry that they left me.

As I began to feel sorry for myself, a family came to bury one of their own. The raw emotions pouring out of them as the casket was lowered reminded me of how far they have to go in the grieving process. I am occasionally overwhelmed by the sense that my parents are missing so much. Yet, most days I’m fine. In fact, yesterday I was wrapping presents for the people that remain in my life. 

As I sat in my car preparing to leave, I remembered that I got to say final words to both of my parents and that was a gift. More importantly, I have sweeter memories of them embedded in my soul and that’s what keeps me going; it’s my greatest gift. 

 #christmas #chronicillness #spoonie #uglychristmassweater #christmassweatercountdown #grief #family #happyholidays #chronicpain