RAINING INSIDE AND OUTSIDE

I dreamed I was this age and single. That I never had any children nor had ever married. It was unsettling. My vacationing husband happened to phone me while I was still tangled in the dream. I had a vague awareness later on in the morning that I had spoken to him, but I was not certain. Had it only been a part of the dream?

Rain and gloominess without a hint of the sun's presence followed me throughout the day. The temperature was cool. It was an odd day.

My mother and I and two of my sisters went to lunch, then on to a meeting to give our approval of a clay rendering of my father's face that is to be part of a bronze wall plaque honoring him in a certain city. The company commissioned by the city to create it specializes in making memorial headstones.

The likeness of Daddy was outstanding, and we all enthusiastically gave a thumbs-up to proceed with the casting in bronze. I roamed through the display area. There are such beautiful granite headstones to choose from. Just when I thought I had seen the prettiest one, I came upon another one that was more gorgeous. The combination of beauty and sadness a headstone encompasses is disconcerting. One cannot deny the artisanship of the stone, but its use is wrenching to the heart.

We climbed back into my vehicle, and one of my sisters asked if we could stop at the close-by cemetery where her in-laws are buried. They both passed away in 2002 within a few months of each other. We agreed to go there.

The cemetery is positively massive. Winding roads, old sections, new ones, parts designated for those of specific religions. My sister had some difficulty finding the exact section. During the hunt, I hopped in and out of the car to take peeks inside some of the mausoleums. One looked like a tiny church, complete with a miniature steeple. Had it not been for the fact that it contained someone's remains from long ago, I would have loved to paint a picture of it. The stained glass windows were stunning. I found it especially touching that some were "perpetual care" ones~meaning fresh flowers were delivered daily inside those mausoleums.

We finally located their plots. Mom stayed in the car while the three of us girls stepped out into the rain to view the area. ::sigh:: It was very depressing. Because it is a family plot, there were numerous other family members buried there. My sister filled us in on who was who. There was my brother-in-law's 43-year-old grandfather's stone. He died in a boating accident. After safely lifting the last of his children into the boat, he drowned. His marker was impossibly sad because of the inscription stating he laid down his life for his loved ones. Next to him, was his wife's headstone. She passed away a mere two years after he did. His first wife's stone was nearby. She was all of 24 when she died. At the foot of one of the graves rested the remains of my brother-in-law's three-day-old infant sibling.

It was too much for me. I needed to get back in the car and get away from all the personal history that was twisting my heart. It was a little easier for me to look at the grave sites of the unknown people from the 1800s or to admire the headstone of a person I did not know.

I, who have the world's absolute worst sense of direction, was able to immediately find my way out of that giant cemetery. There was much chuckling from the others about that.

After I arrived home, I busied myself with tasks. When I finally sat down, I thought about my dream. I thought about the cemetery where we had been. And I thought about how sad it would be had I never married and never had children.

While my entire life story has yet to be played out, at least I know that at some point in time there will be somebody standing in the rain looking at my headstone and those of the ones I have loved and who have loved me. Remembered.

"Slowly, the dead steal back into our speech." ~Unknown