Written in Stone

You never expect to have to pick out your child's grave. When you see the positive sign on the pregnancy test, you never in your wildest nightmares think to yourself that you will have to pick a spot to lay them in the ground in a casket, instead of in a crib in their room. This is every parents worst nightmare. This scenario is what people are imagining when they tell you that they just can't imagine what you are going through. Its an awful thing to have to do.

It was a very hot day in July when we picked out the spot we would lay Koralyn's body down in. The sun and its heat seemed extra cruel that day. We drove to the cemetery meeting our pastor and the caretaker to decide on a grave spot. We of course started in the baby and child section of the historic cemetery. They indeed have a special place to bury babies and children, because for so many the unimaginable happens everyday. I can understand why some moms and dads would want to bury their child in this section. In some strange way its a comfort to know your child's body is lying next to other precious children gone too soon. When you go, you are reminded of a mother's love because the baby section is usually the most decorated part of the cemetery. There are always balloons and flowers and special trinkets marking the graves.It reminds the aching mother's heart that she isn't alone in her grief, when she sees the other well cared for graves. A strange and sad comfort indeed.  It almost looks like a happy place where children might play, if it weren't for the stones marking the graves, indicating death resides there.

So it made sense that the caretaker would assume I would want my sweet Koralyn in that section as well. I remember in my shock and haze standing in front of the open plots we could choose from. There seemed to be no shade or respite from the heat of the Texas sun. I stood there hearing the nearby traffic stream by. Proof that the world was still turning even though I needed it to halt, if only for a moment. All I could think in that moment was how hot it was and how exposed it all seemed. Exposed to the cruel summer sun and the road where passerby could gawk at the sad sad baby graves as they drove past. I couldn't have my Koralyn in this spot, I hated it. I felt sick and I wanted to run. The caretaker in his Bermuda shorts and his Carnival Cruise t-shirt told us he had a few plots in the older historic part of the cemetery. I told him I wanted to see those please, so we all loaded back into our cars and drove to the back section of the property. We got out in a spot with two huge trees and several family plots around. I felt relieved. This spot was so much more beautiful to me. Surrounded by trees, other mothers and children and near the back of the cemetery instead of right up front. It felt safe. We talked about how I could install a bench and sit in the shade when I came to visit. We agreed this would be our girl's spot and eventually mine and Amos' as well. No matter where we ended up, our final place would be next to our sweet Koralyn. Amos said he wanted to be next to her so that others who came to this sacred place knew she wasn't alone. Our other children may choose to be buried somewhere else with a spouse, but Koralyn didn't get that choice. So we will eventually be placed next to her. In a way so that the world will know she wasn't forgotten or discarded. That she continued to matter to us through all our years. I can't tell you the love I felt for my husband, knowing he wanted to protect and honor our daughter even in death.

Fresh mounds of dirt above a grave is heartbreaking for the loved ones. 

We picked our spots and a day or two later we all came and watched as a tiny casket was lowered into the ground. In the days and weeks that followed I visited often, seeing the mound of dirt slowly settle back into the ground. We went and picked out a small pink stone with birds and a cross between Koralyn's birth date and death date. The cross instead of a dash, to remind us of our Hope. Christ was there in that time between those two days and he is still here now. Helping us breathe on our worst days and rejoicing with us on our best. That tiny cross between those dates reminds me that I can live because He lives. Christ lives after first dying on a cross for each of us, including my sweet Koralyn. This tiny pink stone in the shade of the trees has been a sacred place for me to go these last 4 years.The one place left on earth that is just Koralyn's and I can still mother her and take care of that spot for her. Visiting often, making sure it clean and always has flowers. Bringing different decorations for the holidays we celebrate. A heart for Valentines Day, A tiny tree for Christmas, balloons on her birthday. Her spot has helped me in my grief and in my need to still be her mother somehow while on this earth. I know she isn't there but I would like to think that she sees me taking care of her little corner on this earth, she knows it is because I love her and long to care for her still. Graves are more a comfort for the living than anything else really, and Koralyn's is no different.

The evening after she was buried we took this sweet wreath her nurses had bought for her to put on her grave. Her Pink Casket spray above that, was donated free of charge by Roberta's Flowers in Midlothian. Such sweet gestures to our grieving hearts. 

I have always loved to sit and just watch the trees in the breeze or hear the birds and look out over a large portion of the cemetery. One afternoon I decided to visit and I saw a large plot of concrete extremely close to Koralyn's headstone. Now in the historic part of the cemetery there aren't really any rules about grave placement or size. The caretaker told us that when we chose that spot and I acknowledged it, never thinking it would be a concern. There weren't any overly huge gravestones and while I knew there was someone buried in the spot above Koralyn, we had placed her stone traditionally at her head and facing East. I assumed the people above us would do the same, giving us our adequate space between. Turns out, I am pretty naive.

One of her birthdays. Our sweet, quiet spot.

My first thought when seeing the big rectangle of concrete was that someone close to me had decided to have a bench installed! I have always mentioned wanting one in that space to be able to sit on instead of always plopping myself on the ground. I whimsically thought some kind soul had decided to give a bench as a gift to us. Maybe Amos' was surprising me or a close friend. I held out this hope in the weeks and months that followed. I would drive by nearly every week expecting to see the finished product. Always holding my breath as I turned the corner, hopeful that it was indeed a bench and not some obnoxious grave marker. Months seemed to go by and my anticipation had waned because each time I would go to see progress, the same old rectangle of concrete would be sitting in the ground. The day I asked Amos to drive by I wasn't expecting to see anything but the rectangle of concrete. We had all of our kids with us that day and it was shaping up to be a busy week at the end of the school year. I wasn't expecting to be gut punched and sucked into a massive wave of grief when I asked him to take me to Koralyns spot, making it hard to function over the next coming days. As we rounded the corner it came into view. Black, long, tall and huge. Right on top of my baby's grave. The angel looking down on the four stones placed in front of her. Her back facing my daughter's headstone. There were indeed two small black benches on either side as well. Once again, I felt shock as I slowly got out of the car and tried to process what I was seeing. We walked around it, taking it all in. Amos said he couldn't believe it, we were going to have crappy neighbors even in death (our luck with neighbors hasn't been the best, we have been robbed by some, littered on by some and taken advantage of by some) So his comment made me chuckle and agree. I think I felt the five stages of grief standing there looking at that grave. Shock, denial, anger,  well maybe not all of them, acceptance was not something I felt at that point. The boys had questions and I was trying to watch my words and reactions in front of them. Not wanting to say or do the wrong thing and be a bad example in this moment of grief.

I hate that Koralyn's grave looks off center now

So close

These stones sit at their feet instead of their heads

We eventually loaded back up and drove home. As the day wore on the wave of grief seemed to overtake me. I couldn't seem to understand why this person had decided their grave, which had been unmarked for 4 years, needed to be gigantic and placed basically right on top of my daughters headstone. It felt so cruel. There had to be a mistake. It was such an intrusion. My heart was breaking all over again. This place I thought was safe was being violated. It just felt as though the person was saying, your tiny grave doesn't matter, I don't care that your daughter is buried here. She had chosen to place her family headstone at the foot of her loved ones graves instead of at the head, essentially hiding my daughters grave from view and in my mind making it look like an afterthought compared to her epic monument. My heart hurt. I was worn and angry. It felt like just another blow. Another blemish, another gaping wound on something I thought was untouchable. I suppose this is why the caretaker mentioned the lack of rules. I suppose this is why most modern cemeteries have rules about size and placement of headstones. So that someone can't come along and put their gigantic monument on top of a baby's grave. I guess next time I pick a final resting place I will choose one with an HOA...

Needless to say everything was feeling very heavy that day. That evening I had to take Asa to his counseling session. My plan was to sit in silence in the waiting room while he was in with the counselor. I was in such a bad state of mind and a few minutes alone in a quiet room seemed like what I needed. A small respite from the demands of the day. Asa went in with his counselor and I sat there in that office feeling so weary and worn. I have been struggling over the last several months having several really hard days. After seeing our new cemetery neighbors I just felt so low and desperate. Desperate for rest from this life that seems so hard. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and just be someone else for a few days. Not the woman who has lost both parents and a daughter all in different and tragic ways. I wanted to remember what it felt like not to carry the weight of death and grief around each day. That freedom of not being a bereaved mother or daughter. I sat in that chair silently crying out to God. Telling Him how tired I was. How I needed Him to show up, I needed to feel His presence, needed Him to carry me. I asked him to help me come to terms with our new graveyard neighbors, help me to have perspective and grace somehow.

As I sat there silently praying for help Karis woke up in her carseat and had begun to not just cry, but scream really. I couldn't get her out and feed her fast enough it would seem. The little office building where Asa sees his counselor is home to several businesses and we were sitting in a little common waiting area. it is all tiled and open to the offices down the hall so you can imagine it can get loud and everything seems to echo. I was in such a bad mood, usually I can fake a smile but I just didn't have it in me that day. As I got Karis out her cries seemed to grow even louder. A woman came down the hall to make sure that someone hadn't left a baby at the door. Her words, not mine. I can't remember what she said before that but I just wasn't having it, I didn't want some lady talking to me during the one hour that I didn't have all four kids. I didn't want to be social. She sat down across from me and inwardly I groaned. She asked me all about Karis so I begrudgingly lightened up and told her. This of course lead to how many children we both had. Hers were all grown now and she even had two small grandchildren. This woman had the sweetest demeanor about her. She didn't mind that I basically growled at her when she walked up (I thought she was going to tell me to quiet my baby down or leave or worse let me know what she thought of my horrible parenting skills) I must have looked a sight as well. I had been crying most of the afternoon so I was red faced and puffy, not to mention my exhaustion was showing. This kind woman, with her sweet smile and her soft voice sat and talked to me for thirty minutes or more. She told me that she worked for a hospice company. She herself had cared for her mother in her home until her death. I told her about losing my mom and of course my sweet Koralyn. I opened up and confessed that I was having a very rough day and I told her about Koralyn's grave and our new neighbor. She listened and her eyes and words were filled with compassion. Eventually she stood to go saying that she had to get to a hospice consult in town. Before she turned to leave she looked at me and asked, "Can I pray for you and with you right now?" She sat back down and took my hand. We bowed our heads and she began to pray over me. She thanked God for me and asked for him to help me not carry guilt but to have grace for myself and peace in my circumstances. At the end of the prayer she thanked God that we had both listened to the Holy Spirit and been open to talking to one another in that moment in time.  Her prayer was balm to my aching soul. This woman and her kindness breathed life back into me. We finally stood and she hugged me. I thanked her for her love and compassion and told her how much I needed that prayer. She smiled at me and walked out into the sunshine, leaving me to sit in awe of a God who hears our cries and cares for us in our sorrows.

I sat there amazed at God's mercy. Not an hour before I was telling Him I couldn't take a step further. The drudgery of everyday life and the weight of grief had me drowning it seemed. I was weary and worn and I needed Him to show up. Boy did He show up. This kindhearted woman became His hands and feet for me that evening. She turned the corner and saw me all red faced and weary and decided to stop and hear my story. She was busy and on her way out but she felt a nudge to stop and so she did.  She shared her story with me as well, speaking of both her joy, and her pain, and how God has been in all of it.  I can't tell you her name, it was on her name tag, but sadly I am awful with names, always have been. I can see her face now though, and hear her words of empathy and affirmation. She was a gift to me, she helped me to remember that God hears and gives us what we need. She helped me to know there are still a lot of good and kind people in the world who care and love others when they see a need. She helped me remember that fellowship with fellow believers is sweet, oh so sweet; even when you only meet for a brief moment in time. I hope one day God gives me an opportunity to do the same for someone else who is hurting and worn. I don't remember her name, but I will never forget her and I can imagine one day in eternity we will meet. We will hug and laugh and she will know what her kindness did for my soul on that day.

As months have passed I have come to terms with our new graveyard neighbors. Yes it still hurts and sometimes I want to cry out about how unfair it feels. But just as God answered my prayer that day for strength He is helping me to accept this thing I cannot change and see it with new eyes. It helps me to remain humble, it helps me to remember to see other's grief and not just my own. It helps me to focus on the fact that this fallen world is indeed not our home, especially when our names and the date of our birth and death is written in stone and placed on the ground to mark where our body lies. The woman who decided to place the grave so close to Koralyn's has buried her husband, a grown son, and two infants. If I were her, I would want a big  monument too. Each time I go and my humanness wants me to be angry and bitter, I rely on God's grace and try to think of the pain she has endured. How now we share this sacred space, me and her. She comes to take care and honor her loved ones the same way I do. God asks us to walk humbly and to love deeply. Sometimes, most times if  I am being honest, I fail at this. Each time I visit Koralyn's spot now, I am reminded. Walk humbly and love deeply, even when it hurts and seems unfair. I would like to think one day Mrs. Pope and I will meet in heaven as well. We will laugh at the brevity of all these earthly possessions we try so hard to grasp. I will meet her children and she will meet mine and all will be well with our souls.

I have to admit, I thought this shadow was pretty neat.
It looks as though the angel is looking down at Koralyn's stone.