The Headstone

We took a Sunday drive up to Idaho City. At church today,  I was talking to someone who said they had gone up to the cemetery, and found his headstone. He then showed me some pictures of it on his phone. The funny thing is, I did not know it had been installed yet! It kind of took my breath away for a moment.

After a little Sunday rest this afternoon (I have had many sleepless nights, lately), I felt prompted to take a drive up to the cemetery, with the kids. I was really tired (I spent the entire night last night crying and talking to God), and I was not too eager to drive, but I felt we needed to go. My mind would not let go of the idea -- despite my puffy eyes, and weariness. It had been quite awhile since we had been there. And I was really interested to see how the headstone turned out -- I did help design it. Beyond that, it just felt important, somehow, that we go.

While we drove through the beautiful ponderosa pines (which smelled so yummy!), we played the Frozen soundtrack, and we all sang along to all the songs, at the top of our lungs. It was quite the beautiful noise we were producing. As I was driving, and singing loudly with great enthusiasm, I started to feel something. Something began stirring inside of me… it was like my moxie began seeping out of my mouth, as I sang with all of my heart and soul. It felt… good! I was reminded that I need to use it, or lose it. I need to sing more. Singing makes me happy. I want to be happy. Therefore I need to sing. Basic logic. (Did I mention I got an A+ in my college Logic class?) 

We got to the cemetery and it was really hot outside, with no hint of a breeze. It was not as pleasant of an experience as we have had in the past. It felt so empty. But the kids still enjoyed it, especially digging in the dirt, and looking at the headstone. We said a family prayer, which I gave as the head of the household.

It was nice to be there, and I am very pleased with the headstone, but something was missing. 

I did not feel anything. I suppose I went hoping for some great display of Charles' presence, or some hint of closeness with him, in his physical resting place -- which we have had very powerfully before. I knew I felt prompted to go, but there was nothing there for me, other than the pretty headstone. The air was still, there was no hint of the breeze which has become his calling-card. It was still, and quiet -- too quiet. It felt hollow for me.

I suppose I should not say that I did not feel anything, because I did feel something.

What I felt was that Charles was not there. He wasn't there, not at all. 

His body lay in a casket, in a vault, under 6 feet of dirt, with his headstone on top, but he was not there!  Not even in spirit.

This made me wonder. Lately, I have felt Charles very close to me. I have had very peaceful and calm feelings, also some very sorrowful and achey feelings -- but whether I feel joy or sorrow, I have felt him near me. But while at the cemetery -- a place I thought surely I would be able to feel him even closer -- it was void of the feelings I have felt, even within my own home.

He is not there!

After some time basking in the emptiness, and hiking around the hills, I loaded the kids in the van, and drove away from the cemetery. As I was driving home and enjoying the beauties of God's creations, I felt like the emptiness I experienced at the cemetery was a message to me. The message I felt was that I need to move forward with life. This death which has been all-consuming for me, cannot consume me. I am not dead, I am alive. And I need to LIVE!

The dirt next to Charles -- the burial plot I bought for me -- is still empty. I still breathe. I still have purpose. And I have work to do! Charles is moving forward with his life, too. He was there at the cemetery when we needed him before, but now, he has work to do!

We both have work to do.

I feel like Charles is urging me to move forward, and not waste time wallowing in grief over him. I am allowed my sadness and aching, but I need to keep pulling my handcart while I cry. I must keep moving forward… continuing forward.

I must find my courage! (I have been lacking it a bit, lately.) 

My vision is still fuzzy about what it is I am meant to do, but I do know this… whatever it is will be God's will, not my own.

My life is in His hands. My heart is open to hear the whisperings of the Spirit.

Right after Charles took his last breath in the hospital, I heard his voice very clearly.

Charles said two things:

1. "I am more powerful than I have ever been!"
2. "Mari, now go and become everything you are meant to be."  

I was alone in the hospital room when I responded to him, "I will."

So, now I am on a journey of trying to become everything I am meant to be. I don't know what that means, exactly, but I do know Someone who does.

If I am quiet enough, maybe, just maybe, I will hear the still small voice whisper to me.

And I will know what I am meant to do… I will know who I am meant to become.

I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father, who loves me, and I love Him.

There is work I need to do for Him, and I intend to do it!

I put "Mormon Pioneer" on his headstone because he is a convert to the church, and he has done a beautiful job with his Family History, and Temple work for his ancestors. The work he started is left for me to continue. He also gave everything for his family, and his God. He worked so hard and gave everything to us and others, with very little thought for himself. Charles was a true Pioneer. I imagine he is with his ancestors, of course, but I also hope my pioneer ancestors have embraced him with open arms, as he is worthy of their great company -- he can stand tall with those who have given everything for their faith in God. 

Onward!