It's been a few weeks. Hard to believe I have been able to stay away from the cemetery that long. In all honesty, I have a hard time finding peace standing there in freezing weather. I feel rushed and unable to really focus my thoughts into prayer. My last visit was Christmas Eve to show the kids the sweet little tree my husband and I had decorated for him a few days prior. After mentioning it out loud this week, I was running out of excuses not to go.
I thought I knew what I would find. Knocked over, frozen decorations all over a grave that was proven unvisited by the lack of footprints. As I pulled in, my heart raced and for the first time since I was brand new to this, I was a bit scared to be there.
Was I ever surprised!! Only about half of the grass was still covered in snow. Comically, CJ is always covered by a drift and the overhead towering trees toss down baseball sized snowballs constantly. But then I noticed all of the footprints. It was so clear who had been visiting my little boy. First, his buddy the raccoon is definitely still a regular! Little footprints all over the stone made me laugh. But the drift was what really surprised me. MANY sets of footprints. I added mine and was prepared to survery his eclectic Christmas display dismantled by the winter weather. Instead, what I found was a completely rearranged display. His little tree had been moved few feet. Everything was there, but in a very different arrangement. There were little shoe marks by the tree. All of the other things were similar- nothing where we had left it, but lovingly and respectfully standing. Another red rose had been left on top of his stone.
The footprints were what finally made me cry. Mr. Coco to his right obviously shared the visitor who left the rose. 11 were placed at Mr. Coco's stone, and very distinct women's heel footprints left a path to where she had left one for CJ. This sweet action has happened before. I think CJ will be bringing his neighbor a new plant in the spring.
There were little footprints around the redecorated tree. I followed this over to the left 4 graves to little Jasmine who died at age 6. I've seen her large Mexican family visiting her before, and felt so much thanks for the little hands that walked over to straighten up CJ's tree. I hope his little tree lit up with solar lights brought those little hands a smile.
I ended up standing at a newly dug grave for a man just a few years younger than myself when I followed another set of adult prints. The frozen ground mounded up and funeral flowers half covered in snow on top of the mound. A temporary sign left by the funeral home told me his name and age. I pictured his wife or mother doing what I have done so many times while I visit... needing to redirect my attention before I completely collapse by wandering around in curiosity. I hope whoever it was felt comfort or at least giggled at the over the top display at CJ's little speck of earth.
It takes a village. No truer words have ever been penned. I never understood how intricately we are all woven together until I lost my son. I have been saved by a Starbucks barista who have pulled up a chair to chat when I tried to hide in the corner behind my shades and laptop. A hairdresser who placed a cool towel over my swollen red eyes and let me cry, a lady in Hobby Lobby who offered me tissue and helped me pick out flowers for his grave... my list goes on and on. Yet I'm still surprise to see a rose left by a stranger, or little prints of a child who straightened up his tree.
We spend a lot of time sharing the beautiful little signs of love shared with us. I am very proud to say we dish it out there pretty well, too. CJ taught us that. Seventeen months after sitting in our church next to his little coffin, and I am finally starting to feel some peace. It still hurts like nothing I can ever describe, but there is such a crazy amount of peace that comes at me from all of these little signs of a community that may never really know us, but continues to carry us through those snow drifts.
I like to leave you with a challenge often, so why should today be any different? hahaha! Look around your community for a tiny place to be of service. You never know when picking up a fallen Christmas decoration can be the simple act of love that gets a broken heart through the day.
One quick shout out....
Happy Birthday to the most selfless man I have ever met! Nate, when we married all those years ago I knew I never had to worry about you loving me. I can not count the amount of times I have watched you pull over to help push a car out of the snow, headed over to help a neighbor with a home repair, spent your only day off working on a project with one of our kids, held open endless doors, carried mounds of packages and shopping bags, and simply loved us with all you have. I love you. I love who I am when I'm with you. I love knowing that you understand what is behind my eyes. Your quirky sense of humor and enormous heart are the core of our family. I thank God every day for you and pray that the next year is full of blessings. Happy 44th Birthday my love!!!
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