Sunday, September 20, 2009

Notes from the cemetary

We were early for Jack's co-op class, so he wanted to stop by the cemetery we pass every week. He's been wanting to go in and read the names off the stones, so we took a strange detour and drove around looking at the stones.

There was a particular stone that made me tear up a bit. A man who died recently, and he had a beautiful stone with a photo of his boat etched into the marble. The writing on it was really moving and it made my voice crack when I talked to the boys.

"What's wrong, Mommy?" asked Andrew from the back.

"I was just thinking about this man who died, and I'll bet his family loved him a lot."

"I'm real sad that Grandma Lynn died," he said. I wasn't entirely sure if he knew what all that meant; he was only 23 months when she died. That was confirmed when he went on to say: "I'm real sad that Grandpa Tom died." (To a 2-year-old, I think "died" just means 'not here right now.')

Jack and I started laughing hysterically, which was completely insensitive. Andrew had been very serious.

Jack said reassuringly to him: "Andrew, Grandpa Tom didn't DIE! He's just reeeeeeeally old" [tons of emphasis on the "really"]...and then, with the sweetest voice of comfort: "But he has a long ways to go!"

I couldn't even drive, I was laughing so hard. I pulled over to write it down for his book, and then just spent another minute laughing. I knew Tom would love that story.

You never know what motherhood will bring you. The good and the bad, I guess. Moments that seem like nothing can suddenly shift into these memorable moments.

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