Graveside

There is the poem, frequently used at funerals in Memorial services, that starts out "Do not stand by my grave and weep ..." [1]

Well, small chance of that.

I actually have wept beside the grave where Gloria's cremains are buried.  A couple of times.  But I'm just as likely to weep walking down the street, or in the apartment, and even more likely to weep while I'm in church, for some reason.

I don't get over to the grave much.  It's in North Van, and I'm not.  When I'm on my way to something on the North Shore, and I allow for too much margin for traffic problems, and so show up early, I am likely to swing by the cemetery.  But not always, and not all that often.

I feel kind of silly there.  Gloria is not there, even though her ashes are.  If Gloria and I are right, Gloria is in heaven.  If Gloria and I are wrong, Gloria is just dead, and nothing much matters anyway.  There is the grave site, and there are the plaques announcing Grandpa Campbell's death, Grama Campbell's death, Stu and Sulla's deaths, and Larry.  I can still see where they dug the hole to place Gloria's ashes, but her plaque isn't there yet.  "Supply chain issues," doncha know.  And, like I say, Gloria isn't there.

So, it seems silly to sit there in the graveyard, when I can speak to Gloria anywhere, anytime.  It feels kind of embarrassing.  It's not grief inducing.

I don't know.  Maybe I'll feel differently at some point.  Gloria didn't.  We didn't go very often to visit Sulla's grave.  I haven't gone very often to visit Fiona's grave, or Mom's or Dad's graves.  It's just sort of, what's the point?  It doesn't provide any additional comfort, and not going doesn't make me feel guilty.

I do hope that they place the plaque before I move to Port Alberni.  It'll be nice to at least see that it's been done.  But I doubt that I will have any great desire to drive to Nanaimo, get on the ferry, get up to the cemetery, and visit at the grave site.

And weep.

[1] - "Immortality," by Clare Harner, published in "The Gypsy," December, 1934