Cemetery Guilt

In the beginning, I visited daily. Sometimes more than once a day. My trips to the cemetery to sit at my husband's grave are absolutely precious to me. It's where I spend a lot of time praying, weeping, "talking" to Chris, and thinking. He's buried in a beautiful memorial park in a section that sits on a small hill with a mountain landscape dropped in right behind it - or right in front depending on the angle from where you're observing. It's a beautiful God painting!

After I returned to work following Chris' death, I continued to head to the cemetery before I would go home many nights each week. I know Chris isn't actually there, but just knowing his earthly body is just a few feet under from where I stand or sit makes me feel close to him (as crazy as this might sound). On one occasion, I was talking with a co-worker who also lost a close family member a few months before me, and she asked me a question that she thought would make me wonder if she'd lost her marbles. She asked, "Sometimes, do you ever just want to dig him up so you could see him again, hold him again, feel him again?" She went on to share that she had been thinking those strange things herself regarding her loved one. Interestingly enough...I totally got that. As crazy as it may appear, I also wanted to do that very impossible thing.

As the months went on, the colder days set in, school started back for my new high schooler, and life got a little more hectic. My cemetery days shrunk to just weekend days. I felt so guilty for that. It was almost as if I thought Chris would be disappointed if I didn't show up for several days. I KNOW (in my "knower" as my friend Lorie would say) that this is crazy thinking. He's NOT there. However, it didn't stop me from feeling the way I did.

Then came November. The time changed, and the shorter days became even shorter and much colder. This particular cemetery closes at sunset - meaning I often can't get there after work anymore during the week. Then, I discovered my weekends were full - going out of town, running errands, etc. Before I knew it - I hadn't been to Chris' grave in a couple of weeks. Upon realization of that - I wept. I felt I had betrayed him. Seriously. I know this makes no sense, in many ways, but this was huge to me. The guilt was almost more than I could take.

It's practically mid-January now. I've only been to visit his gravesite maybe 5 times in the last 12 weeks. For some, even that's too much. For me? It's just another bend in the Grief Road. Does this mean I care less? On the contrary actually. As I blogged just a week or so ago, I'm more in love with my husband now than ever before. I want to honor him now every way imaginable. But, the cemetery guilt is leaving. I know Chris would not want me out there all the time. I can still "talk to him" from the comforts of home.

And, honestly, I look forward to spring - the warmer, longer days - when I can spend a little more time in that peaceful, special place out of "want to" rather than guilt. Oh, how I miss him so...