I drove out to the cemetery to visit Arlina's grave. It's been 13 years. I had thoughts about that morning as I drove. There is no longer any pain, but the memory of the pain that was is still there. I'm grateful for both.
It was a beautiful sunny morning the 50s. It's a Catholic cemetery, so not a lot of pretty trees. Not sure why Catholic cemeteries are so...barren. Give me the city cemetery any day.
I sat out there for a while enjoying the day and telling her memory about the new camera I am thinking about buying. The last thing she ever wrote to me, which I discovered after she died, told me to keep taking pictures, and I have. It was part of a wonderful little pep talk she left for me in her medication journal. Before I found it, I went through the house, knowing she must have left something for me. I eventually found it.
I have taken this same picture over and over again in the intervening years.
Someone had been there in the last day or so and left some flowers, so I added mine to the top--little roses from our garden. She brought that miniature rose plant home from work one day, and I planted it out front. One of her brothers visits regularly, and I am guessing the other flowers are from him and his family.
I visited with my student and his preceptor, and all is well. I came home and took Malida to the noodle place for lunch, and then we went shopping, as if it was Sunday, but it is still only Saturday. Tomorrow is going to be a bonus day for me, other than the student meeting I have in the morning.
I went for a walk in the park before the sun set. It was a lovely afternoon, though I am still not completely used to the sun setting at 5 pm.
Another picture I have captured over and over through the years. The only thing that really changes is me.