flowers on the graves

i just got back from visiting with my gramma. it's hard to believe that it's been only 3 1/2 years since she died. sometimes, still, i ache with the loss.

i took some tulips from the gardens to lay on her headstone. she would have like them--the dark purple with the creamy white and the just right pink. enough contrast that she could have seen them all, even with her failing eyesight. and she would have been delighted because i didn't pay for them and because i grew them.

i could tell that my mom had been to her mother's grave recently because the grass and soil around the headstone had been removed so that if one wanted and was strong enough, one could easily lift under and remove the headstone. this was clearly my mom's offering, her indication of love to her mother, her act of service. but to me, it felt like such a violation--her once or twice yearly visit to clean up the graves of her parents and relatives, cut back the grass, expose the stones. in much the same way we differ when it comes to pruning (my method is to cut back one branch at a time with my clippers, my mom prefers the electric hedgeshearers that remind me of a chain saw), mom and i have different ideas about the way to tend to the grave of the dearly departed. whenever i visit, i use my hands to pull out the bits of grass that encroaches, whereas mom prefers a shovel that can remove sod and soil leaving a jagged edge of dried dirt and exposed roots. i'll admit to feeling more than a little overprotective when it comes to gramma, but now that she is gone, the only thing i can give to her is the care and time i spend at her grave. i take that responsibility very seriously.

i'm always a bit fascinated by what i see at the cemetery. most of the time when i go visit, it isn't a special remembering day, like mother's day, so the flowers and decorations are few and far between. a potted mum or gerber daisy here or there, or a mass of wreaths and sprays, tipping over and wilting from lack of water, going just as surely as the recently buried beneath them to that cold dark night. mother's day brings many more offerings--from the tiny potted violets to the vibrant geraniums to bunches of colorful balloons to masses of freshly cut lilacs. today i saw the largest, brightest azalea i've ever seen. it must have cost a fortune. it was the kind of plant my gramma would have asked me to help her purchase, place lovingly on a grave, and remove the next day to plant in her yard.

i noticed something else at the cemetery today in the fading light of dusk.

dandilion seed heads.

so many graves, so long forgotten, with only the white puffballs of seeds that are so despised in the perfect lawns of my neighborhood. today at the cemetery, they dotted the graves of those long gone or recently forgotten, and in the late spring light, i thought they were a beautiful gift.