The Graveside Wreath

There is a beautiful wreath that awaits being placed at Allison's resting place. Jennifer's Godmother, Aunt Sue, made it and brought it over with at Christmas time, 2007, our first one without Allison's physical presence. She just told us to do what we wanted with it, so that first year, since the monument had not been placed, we just laid it down but I picked it right up and brought it home. I couldn't leave it, and I couldn't believe that I was a mother, visiting the gravesite of her beloved daughter. The second year I did leave it, right under the bench opening, under her name that I have traced many times over, perhaps so that this will become "real" in some ways. It is shimmery and has one simple pink glistening bow. I thought each year I might add something to it, but that hasn't happened. I like the simplicity of it, just lying there on top of the cold ground where the green grass still stands out, even in the beginning of winter. So, last year I left it, and had no thoughts of retrieving it, yet, when I visited later in winter, as it still sat there, not a bit frayed from the raging winter winds, or cold of night, I decided to bring it home. Maybe start a new tradition. Maybe make a visit and lay it down again. But, the wreath is still here and I have not been to make that visit, to see how others honor those who have gone before them with grave coverings, poinsettias, wreaths. The time has not been right for me. I am not a grave visitor. Allison is not there, so for me, when I go there, I feel very removed, not comforted. I know other mothers and fathers who feel quite the opposite. And that is okay. Each one of us finds our own way, and God shows us different ways to move through this, not move ON, not even FORWARD, just move. To me, that is the key.

I haven't hung any wreaths this year, quite odd for me. But this has been one of a different season, the one where I believe some sort of "shock" is wearing off and the freshness is binding. There is not even the big Christmas tree up, and that is okay. The pink one is, the candles are out, the snowmen, the displays of comfort but not too many. Less is more this year.

I am unsure what will happen to Allison's graveside wreath this year. Maybe it will stay there for another year, maybe I will visit on Christmas Eve, maybe not. Maybe I will hang it on our door this week, maybe I will just hold it close and let the tears come that need to...just maybe I will hold it and be reminded of the beautiful way in which her sister, Jennifer, read the poem on the day of her wintery celebration of life, the poem that held such meaning then, but is more profound with each growing day. The poem that helps us to know we don't need the graveside or bench to know she never leaves us, for she did not die. I have shared it before, but this morning, I need to hear it again and again and again...

Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there.
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamonds on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds circling flight.
I am the the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there.
I did not die.