The irises are sending up their shoots, proving once again…the world keeps on turning.

The last time I was at the farm, I noticed a leak in the ceiling of the Girl’s Room upstairs. We’ve had a lot of rain recently, so I just wanted to run out and check to see how it was doing. Surprisingly, it was dry as a bone, but I left a galvanized tub on the floor below where it leaked before…just in case. I changed the message on the answering machine to reflect the new number, picked up the mail, and had a look around.

Spring is on it’s way here in West Virginia. That doesn’t mean we won’t have any more snow or freezes, but the evidence is unmistakable. The irises are sprouting up! I didn’t look to see if any other flowers are breaking ground yet, but it’s just a matter of time. Everything looked great and I enjoyed some time sitting at Grandma’s window.

Another sign of spring is all the road repairs going on. All the way out to the farm and back, there were numerous slips, rock slides, and fallen trees that had been cut up and moved off the roadway. There are a few choice points along the way where mudslides frequently come down at this time of year. In one such place, the traffic was reduced to one lane with flaggers. I patiently waited my turn, scanning the hillsides of naked trees, looking for wildlife. It is a big time for squirrels to come out of hibernation because I must have seen half a dozen that had been hit by cars. I narrowly missed a couple myself.

I decided to swing by my friend Sparky’s house on my way home. You may recall, she passed away unexpectedly in mid-December. I am still struggling with a sense of closure. There was a memorial with her cremains present, but there isn’t a gravesite to go to. At least, not to my knowledge. I thought, maybe if I went to her house where she died, I’d find what I was looking for. I did not. 

I think, sometimes….we aren’t given a neat and tidy little package called closure after someone we love dearly passes away. I remember when Mr. Virgo and I discussed funeral plans a few weeks before he died unexpectedly, I was surprised he wanted to be buried up on the hill overlooking our house. I’ve always wanted to be cremated and assumed he would, as well. When I asked him why, he said I would need a place to go to to visit him.

I thought that was crazy, and said as much. However, I found myself surprised at how important it was to go to his gravesite and grieve…knowing his earthly vessel was laid there. It helped me immensely to wail and walk in circles around his grave with the mound of fresh earth and the trinkets we had left for him…a pack of his favorite cigarettes, some golf balls, a green plastic coin from St. Patrick’s Day. I don’t have this place to go to for Sparky. Sitting in the driveway didn’t get it.

Sometimes we need to make our own memorials for our loved ones who have passed. When I hiked into the Weminuche Wilderness to bury some of his hair along the trail he called “Aspen Alley”, I sang songs to him and erected a cross made from sticks tied together with the cord from the blue velvet bag that held his hair. Although I never went back, I know there is a piece of him there. There is also a piece of him buried between my mom and her brother at the family cemetery. 

I don’t have a “piece of Sparky”. I have a few items she gave me over the years. One thing in particular I smile at every time I see it. It’s a cute pillow that says “Home is Where You Park It”. I have decided to take a little bit of the stuffing from that pillow and put it in a bag in my purse. Then, when I decide the time is right and the place speaks to me, I’m going to bury it. That will be my place. My special place to go to when I’m missing her and need to feel wrapped in her memory.

This “needing a place to go” has taken me totally by surprise. When I bought Mr. Virgo’s cemetery plot, I bought the one next to it for me. I still want to be cremated, but I want part of my ashes buried next to him overlooking that beautiful golf course across the road from our home. The rest is to be placed somewhere here in West Virginia. Somewhere that those who want to remember me and feel near me can come sit for a while. Maybe a bench somewhere. Maybe at the end of the far field. Maybe back up on the hill at the farm, or alongside my family on King Knob. Or, just someplace special to Mr. FixIt and the girls. 

I didn’t mean to wax philosophic and get all morbid on you today. I just wanted to share that grief…profound grief…doesn’t only come when a close relative passes away. It can come when you’ve lost a beloved pet…or have to move from the home of your heart…or you go through a painful divorce. It can come if you lose a job…or a close friendship. And, it can come when the funniest woman you’ve ever known who was there for you every day…never more than a text or call or meme away…dies totally unexpectedly and leaves you rudderless for a while.

It’s ok to feel that loss to your bones and do whatever you need to find closure. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay if you’re lost, we’re all a little lost and it’s alright.”

– Nightbirde

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“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

Psalm 147:3 ESV