Tonight I discovered that I have thoroughly underestimated the power of comedic relief.
A few entries ago, I described the situation with my mother's grave and how she always said she would be in a better place so the actual grave site was not THAT significant. Well, for whatever reason, I feel a surge of emotion each time I visit that cemetery. Maybe it's the way she loved those big, draping oaks dripping in moss...maybe it's the silence, the peace and the light tinkling of the wind chime dangling from a branch above her grave. I just feel closer to her there.
This evening, we stopped by there and Keith took Daniel to look around the cemetery as I sat down and "talked" to Mom. As weird as it sounds (but those of you that know me know that I'm weird...so no surprise) I even sang her favorite song. Tears began to well up in my eyes until I could contain them no more. Suddenly, I was sobbing. That is until I spotted my four year old son.
There he was. Strutting behind my husband as he walked toward me across the lawn. Just then, I noticed what he was carrying. He was toting a styrofoam cross studded with white silk flowers. Keith looked around, did a double take and said "Daniel! Where did you get that?!" To which Daniel replied, "Over there. They had a bunch so I got it to put it on somebody's grave that didn't have any flowers."
I was speechless. Then, a burst of laughter spewed forth at the sight of my son with this cross half his size. I told him to come over (after returning the cross to its rightful owner) and I gave him a long hug. I thanked him for being so thoughtful but explained how we can't take things that aren't ours...even if it's for a good reason. The innocent action of a young boy brought a smile to my face and, although it made me wish even more that his "Grammy" was there to see it, the mood was lightened substantially.
So, as I get ready to turn in tonight, I thank heaven for little boys, styrofoam crosses and good intentions. Without them, my life just wouldn't be the same.