My two sisters and I went and visited our mom today. Yes, I know she's gone, but we visited her at the cemetery. Today was her birthday. We were so blessed to have her for so many years, and now we don't. So we went to visit.
Yes, we're well aware that she's not there. We know that where she is is a much better place than where we is. And, yes, I know the grammar isn't right in that last sentence. I know I should be more formal and careful in this kind of post. But our visit was just too doggone...hilarious.
See, going to a cemetery in February in Illinois can be very interesting. The weather can be anything, and usually is. Today there was snow on her grave that reached almost halfway to my knees, and I'm pretty tall. The red roses my dad left there in the fall had frozen into the vase. We took along hot water in Thermoses to thaw them out. They popped right out and we put yellow ones in.
The hilarious part? That was watching my sisters struggle up the little hill to the grave. Visiting a cemetery is supposed to be somber...respectful...quiet. But it's hard to be all of those things when your sister is lying on her back in the snow, struggling to get up from where she's fallen. When the three of you forgot snow boots, and, even though two of you remembered to ask for extra grocery bags at The WalMarts so you could put them on your feet, one didn't, and the oldest stole the middle (without realizing it until we were back in the car ) one's second bag, so Middlesister only had one bag for her two feet. And before anyone starts yapping at me about the grocery bags, please notice that I didn't specify which sister was rolling on her back in the snow like a beetle. Or which sister couldn't get herself out of the snowbank at the end.
I'm just saying.
But here's a picture of the roses.