Ten Years Saving For Mom's Headstone

After my husband's passing we were struggling; almost losing everything we'd valued, worked so hard to obtain.

Daughter and I pulled together, working minimum wage jobs, only one car, making it work through intricate planning and my taking "assigned jobs for a placement service" often involving late afternoons/evenings, daughter working 9 to 5.

Financial and other crisis followed us every step of the way but we were determined to make the journey, whatever it took to move from where we were, to where we've arrived.

I was finally able to afford a deposit to create a Tombstone for my Mom's grave; she passed in her 100th year. It took eight years of putting away small amounts and getting out from underneath a mountain of debt.

I found what I thought was "perfect" for Mom-- she loved the color red, and in Missouri, we have a special red granite. 

It's limited, however, in being mined year to year, and we were told it would take two years or possibly a little longer until the stone was available and could be mined and carved.

After showing a picture and a sample of the red granite to my daughter, she agreed it was "the perfect choice". 

I saved some money I'd put aside from hourly wage jobs I took for daughter and me to survive. 

After showing the plans to my second son, who made a   side trip through our area on a business trip, and getting his approval, I made the deposit and the months passed.

We were family, making a decision we felt would forever tell those who visited her grave how much she was loved and meant to us, her family of decades.

Unfortunately, my oldest son was not included as he'd decided some years ago to remove any contact with me,       with his children, my grandchildren.

It's sad and unfortunate. I sent a message to his oldest son, after he turned 21, through LinkedIn. I'd hoped we could connect now that he was an adult. That was not his choice.

There are four others. Second oldest is studying Media & Journalism; perhaps she'll learn to see clearer than her brother.

My husband's passing before my Mom was like a knife cutting into me. 

Caregiving for two critically ill people at home and unable to work, trying to live on Savings and Social Security was . . . "challenging" isn't a strong enough word.

When Mom passed, I felt like someone reinserted the knife and twisted it.  

There were three years in between but it felt like three decades as we encountered The Church Lady I've written about in a previous part of this blog.

Death comes to all but it's how it comes that can create an upside down, inside out world where you can't find an exit and don't remember where/when the entrance actually opened.

The loss of two immediate family members, with whom you've lived for decades, is difficult to put into words. 

When it's complicated by events causing pain and suffering for the entire family unit, it's like a sore that keeps opening wider and wider.

Family is a unit that grows stronger each day when nurtured as ours was or apart when actions over years continue to cut deeply, as with my first son.

When one member passes, everyone feels the change and struggles in their own way to move forward. Our "separation" although attributed by first son to "me" was "my fault", actually began years before from his actions.

The loss of a beloved spouse of decades when you believe it could have been less traumatic with better medical care. .  

The loss of a beloved parent with whom you spent four decades as a multi-generational family, even though they pass in their 100th year. . . .

IS FOREVER LIFE CHANGING.

Mom was buried as she wanted, in a small town cemetery, on a small hill, not inside church grounds, with three generations of various immediate family members and other relatives.

When we began this journey to place her stone, we'd been visiting her gravesite at least once a year. We would visit my husband's gravesite and place flowers for him and some on Mom's grave for her. 

Sadly, we visited twice this last year as we recently buried one of my cousins, who Mom helped bring into this world decades ago and years before I arrived.

His Dad was fighting in European battlefields during WWII, his Mom had two other young children. I'm not sure I remember correctly but think Mom said the Doctor couldn't come, so she delivered the baby, my cousin, now buried a short walk over from where Mom rests.

He was remembered for all the ways he helped others in his small town and his love of playing the trumpet. Like his father and uncles, music was his second language.

Just a few weeks ago the call came. The Headstone was going to be carved and ready to be set on Mom's grave. 

Paid the balance. Stone was set in place. Second son came from the East Coast for two days to travel with daughter and me into the neighboring State where Mom requested to be laid to rest, along with generations in her family including her parents.

Mom wanted to be with her "first family" and so she is. I will be in another place. She made the decision long before I  was married. I honor her choice.