flowers fade
In 1977, as my husband and I were about to leave on our first national tour with our two-person Family Bible Jamboree!, we received a call from a couple that we had met in a church in Indianapolis saying that they wanted to purchase a van for us to drive around the country. This began the linking of our lives with Bonnie and Klint Thelander. We saw each other through some good times and bad.
After 37 years of marriage to Bonnie, Klint died. Because it happened so suddenly Dave and I were not able to be at the service to mourn with Bonnie and her grown sons. However, we had a happy surprise when two years later, Bonnie married her dear friend, Roy, also recently widowed. After twenty wonderful years together, Roy also passed away last March.
One of our priorities on our trip to Indiana was to see Bonnie, and on this visit, she asked if we would like to go to the cemetery where both her husbands are buried. Her sister had placed a lovely fall arrangement. Another of her friends said that whenever she visited her own husband, she would stop by Roy’s resting place and leave a small stone, just to let Bonnie know that someone had paid their respects. I really liked that idea. We gathered up a few stones and each left one on Roy’s gravesite.
The next day was another beautiful September afternoon, and I had planned to visit the cemetery in Indianapolis where my parents and grandparents are all buried. My dear friend Jennifer has done this journey with me before, so with the crisp, clean air and the longer afternoon shadows, I picked up Jennifer and a handful of stones. We stopped in at the mausoleum first. I told stories about my grandparents and parents, prayed at each of their resting places and left stones. This is my way of continuing to honor my elders for all the gifts they provided me in their long and complicated lives. It is my pilgrimage whenever I am in the vicinity.
The Apostle Peter wrote in his first letter, “Love one another deeply, from the heart. For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God. For ‘all people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall.’” This reminder of our earthly life’s impermanence is particularly true in a cemetery. But by laying a stone instead of a blossom, I am reminded of Jesus words when he was asked to rebuke his disciples for praising him for his miracles: “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.”
In the silence of Crown Hill Cemetery, I leave stones to cry out when I am no longer there to sing songs for my mom and dad, for Grandma Mary and Grandpa Doc, for Nana and Eldo.
Love, Liz
